


Two Introverts and a really weird Cat

by Felikid



Series: good boys.odt [2]
Category: Kingdom Hearts
Genre: Flood!Vanitas, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Gen, Post-Kingdom Hearts III, Repliku has offically been renamed Neo and i am very proud of him, actually some angst now but still mostly fluffy, canon whomst?, in which the author says 'it's free real estate' and does what he wants, light sprinkling of angst possible, mentioned anxiety, tomfoolery and shenanigans
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-11-03
Updated: 2021-01-08
Packaged: 2021-01-21 05:26:42
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 25
Words: 35,891
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21294284
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Felikid/pseuds/Felikid
Summary: Naminé finds and adopts a shadow-y creature in a small cave. It's soft and good for her anxiety, she thinks.Repliku tries and fails to be the voice of reason. He grew attached within the first minute and all sense is lost.Vanitas just wants people to stop petting his miserable Flood-shaped form. Because it's totally horrible and he hates it, definetly.So now two introverts try to hide a really weird cat from their keyblade-wielding friends, who will probably slay it on sight.
Relationships: Naminé & Riku Replica & Vanitas (Kingdom Hearts), Naminé & Riku Replica (Kingdom Hearts), Naminé & Vanitas (Kingdom Hearts), Riku & Riku Replica (Kingdom Hearts), Riku Replica & Vanitas (Kingdom Hearts)
Series: good boys.odt [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1544422
Comments: 459
Kudos: 231





	1. There's worse fates out there, so whatever.

**Author's Note:**

> chapter title is from Get Wild by nostraightanswer (kinda anyways)
> 
> feel free to point out spelling/grammar mistakes, english isn't my first language, you know the drill.

Naminé‘s been living with Kairi ever since she came back from the dead, and things are good. Somewhat.

Everything on Destiny Islands is so loud and bright that Naminé, who grew up in ivory halls with nothing inside, finds herself overwhelmed. Just a little.

So, because Sora‘s voice is friendly but also very _very_ loud and Kairi has an arm around her shoulder and there‘s waves lapping at her feet and people talking everywhere, Naminé excuses herself as politely as possible, walking away _just _slowly enough you can‘t accuse her of running.

Once she is out of sight of anyone who might force her to _speak_ (her brain would currently explode at that task) she breaks into a sprint to the little cave Sora told her about sometime, the Secret Place.

Dark, still, and perfectly empty while everyone‘s partying.

Well, not empty, because there‘s a very alive thing staring at her with bright red eyes.

Vanitas has been pretty tired for a while now.

He kinda tagged along with Sora for, oh, thirteen or so years, so when the idiot went and shattered himself into a million tiny pieces for a month, Vanitas got forcibly evicted.

Which should‘ve been good, except for the teeny-tiny problem that putting yourself together in a pinch takes a whole lot of effort. Leading to the leftovers responsible for creating his shadowy physical form spitting out one measly Flood.

If that’s not embarrassing enough, the powers that be slammed him on Destiny Islands of all places. Dark Corridors are out of the question in his current state, which left him to mope and gather strenght in this dinky cave for a month.

He lets out a sigh and stretches on his moss bed (that took way too much effort to make) and stares at the cave’s entrance. Trying to imagine what beings of light get up to in their free time Is making him a little miffed. People don’t _actually_ throw parties for _fun_, right? Sounds like a lie to Vanitas.

Of course, miffed as he is, some blonde girl he’s never seen waltzing into the space he’s claimed pisses him off just a bit.

Naminé squeaks and shies back as the creature of darkness (for what else coud it be) glowers at her with the intensity of a thousand suns or something equally dramatic.

Considering she came here to not hyperventilate in public, her heart skipping one more beat surely doesn’t make a difference.

“H-Hey, th-there, sm-little guy,” Naminé stammers, though one needs to add a dozen more syllables to truly convey the extent of her anxiety. “Mmind if I, uh, sit with you?”

The creature stands up on its long limbs while Naminé starts seeing spots from surprise, only to sit back down on its bed, this time turning its back toward her.

Naminé accepts the silent invitation.

She shuffles toward the big door with this world’s heart beneath it. Her legs refuse to hold her any longer and she slides to the groung, a drawn-out screech sounding from her sneakers against the smooth stone floor.

A low growl comes from the creatures direction.

“S-sorry.”

Welp, the girl is here now. Driving her off will make her call the people capable of erasing his miserable existence, so.

Speaking of miserable existence, that girl’s not exactly sunshine herself. Sure, she’s pretty balanced as far as dark and light goes, but he can pretty much smell her fear from here. What’s there to even be afraid of? Vanitas is self-aware enough to know he’s pathetically weak at the moment.

Her shuddering breaths keep echoing off the walls and its _grating._

So, Vanitas faces two options.

Option a) get her to leave. Impossible without alerting the keybrats to his continued existence.

Leaving Option b) get her to stop hyperventilating.

He rises from his bed once more, edging closer to the gloomy girl with small, measured steps.

She breathes in sharply at his approach. Her eyes widen as she shakes, trapped in a corner with no way of defense.

_Huh, I’m still intimidat-_ Vanitas trips on a rock.

He trips on a rock because of his stupid long Flood legs and the girl has the audacity to_ giggle at him._

At least she’s not hyperventilating anymore. And no, wait, what is she-

she pets his head. Her continued laughter makes Vanitas head spin. He doesn’t…. _not_ like this feeling. It’s strange. Weird and disgusting.

He’s somehow.. whole in this moment. He’s never done this before, has he? Made someone happy?

And a few moments of fooling around later, Riku bursts in, a dark blade drawn and pointed at Vanitas.

The Riku Replica, known as Repliku (much to his disdain), looks about the party and sees that Naminé’s run off again. He can understand, yes, but he also knows that she’ll sit in some corner alone for an hour because asking for help is scary.

Ever since Repliku returned from the past and got out of Riku’s heart for real this time, he’s just been… hanging out on Destiny Islands. He never imagined feeling anything resembling gratefulness for his creator, but… weird things happen sometimes. Weird things like still being alive thanks to the guy.

Riku, who is so understanding and considerate of his feelings it’s a bit insufferable, let Repliku stay at his house. He gets to visit his best (and maybe only) friend Naminé often enough with this arrangement, which is nice, he guesses.

If anymore people at school called them Mini-Riku, though, someone’ll get a broken nose. Someone _almost_ got a broken nose, actually.

Right now, there’s a party going on and he glances at Naminé in each spare moment. Naminé doesn’t do groups that well.

It’s only natural for him to follow when she excuses herself with a panicked look on her face.

A reminder of a past conversation flashes through Repliku’s head. “Overprotective,” Riku had told him. ‘s not his fault that everyone used to treat her like garbage. A promise is a promise, fake or not, and Naminé deserves to be protected.

Even if it’s from herself.

This kid’s not gonna leave Naminé alone somewhere when she’s _definetly_ about to have a panic attack.

Tracking her across the Play Island proves an easy feat_, _considering half of it is out of the question for being the Party Zone™ and the beach is devoid of her striking blonde hair.

Which leaves the Secret Place (that’s not really secret) where a panicked girl can catch a cold from sitting on the stone floor too long.

He stomps through the tunnel leading to the cave. The temperature between the tree roots is warmer than expected, but still chilly in the evening air.

What’s that noise coming from the cave?

There’s some.. sputtering, yowling noise up ahead.

Repliku dashes ahead, Soul Eater at the ready. The cave is close and his steps are wide; he reaches Naminé within seconds.

Inside, he hesitates, Naminé laughs, holding a creature of darkness to her chest.

Naminé‘s smile falls once she sees Repliku inside.

“W-Wait!”

Soul Eater clatters to the floor with her shout. She hugs the thing closer.

“He’s friendly, I promise!” She holds it up by the armpits (or whatever amounts for those with its shadowy anatomy) and even Repliku can admit, its indignant expression as its legs stretch all the way to the floor is kinda funny.

“What even is that?” Repliku spits out, one hand pointing accusingly, the other open to resummon his blade.

Naminé throws her arms around it (him?) again, and pouts. It’s good that she’s calmed down, though the thing is suspicious despite its apparent help. “He’s my friend now and I won’t let you hurt him!”

_Please don’t say you want to keep it_, Repliku thinks.

She charges her puppy-dog eyes and his resolve quivers already.

“Can we keep him?”

Vanitas regrets cheering up this girl. She’s been petting him for a minute or two, and it’s horrible. Totally.

He spots Riku No.2 eyeing his sleek blue fur. Since surviving up to this point wasn’t that high on his agenda in the first place, Vanitas nudges Repliku’s hand. Repliku lights up and pets Vanitas’ head. Disgusting.

Maybe, though he loathes to admit it, some company might be better than rotting away in this cave any longer. No matter how much his dignity suffers.

Life’s just,

whatever anyways. If you never thought you’d make it this far, why not let fate carry you along a bit further?


	2. you think I'm luggage or what?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Naminé and Repliku undertake the perilous task of going home. Vanitas surpresses the urge to slay them where they stand.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Teensy-tiny bit of self-hate and suicidal ideation (as in not wanting to exist) but it's only a throwaway line (for now) in the chapter's last section. It's nothing really major, but I'm saying it here anyway.

Repliku and Naminé face a difficulty generally referred to as _facts._

a) the creature is definetly made of darkness

b) Naminé wants to keep it

c) everyone with a keyblade will be inclined to kill him

and lastly,

d) Repliku’s already grown attached.

So, Naminé and Repliku devise a plan. A most devious plan. Something so smart, no one will ever see through it. Four-dimensional chess at its finest.

Meaning, they wing it.

It goes like this:

Phase One: leave the cave.

Easy enough, Repliku pretends he’s not petting the thing, the thing pretends it doesn’t like this, Naminé laughs at them both. Everyone stopped crying at this point.

Phase Two: leave the Play Island.

Where the first step’s easy, this one’s hard, because an additional obstacle approaches them.

They reach the island’s quaint port. Rickety little boats float tied to rickety little wooden posts atop wooden planks.

And atop those wooden planks sits Xion.

Both of them don’t really have anything to do with Xion, even though Naminé’s friends with Roxas; Repliku and her have some sort of understanding nonetheless, and always politely nod at each other when crossing paths. Despite all that, she is someone with a stabby stick of light at her immediate disposal. Additional planning required.

Xion loves staring at the sunset, no matter which world or which day. Not only are they extremely pretty, each world’s sunset held its own unique charm. Destiny Island’s sunset is a carefree farewell after a day of playing under the sun.

So Xion shrieks when a greeting sounds out behind her.

“Uhm, hi.. Xion.”

It’s Naminé in all her pale glory, though the setting sun’s soft oranges grant her skin a bit less pallor.

Naminé keeps glancing to the left while wringing her fingers. Sweat rolls down her forehead. “Uhh, I, well.. Need to show-, no tell, you something.”

Xion leans away from the ocean and faces Naminé. She still doesn’t meet Xion’s gaze. “What is it?”

“Look! A distraction!”

“Huh?”

Now, you might scoff and say ‘No one would _ever _fall for that,’ but humans, or Replicas and Nobodies in this case, have a strong instinct to look at things. In the case of someone loudly shouting _anything whatsoever_ while pointing to the distance, most people will, in fact, look to the direction being pointed to. You can even call people by the wrong name and they’ll respond!

Xion falls prey to these innate instincts as she turns to the far left with nothing but trees in sight. Her thinking catches up to her instincts, panting and calling ‘Don’t leave me behind!’

There’s also a loud thunk and a hiss coming from the right where the boats are, so that’s mildy concerning.

Processing finishes in that confuddled noggin of Xion’s and swiveling around to Naminé again lifts the dark curtain of confusion toward the distraction’s purpose….

Naminé and Repliku paddle away in one of the canoes, Xion unable to even shout after them, because _what?_

Okay no, impending friendship cancelled. Vanitas is going to murder this kid in his sleep. First that _nitwit_ dares pet his majestic (pathetic) form, then he gets craddled like some sort of helpless baby by the blonde, and lastly, the damned cretin picks him up by the scruff of his neck and-

throws Vanitas with all his might into a stupid canoe.

In the most harebrained scheme to exist, Vanitas’ two unfortunate aquaintances decided to smuggle him around the doll he vaguely recognized as a vessel from his time travel stint thirteen or so years ago by _violently throwing him_. Again, throwing him like a sack of rice in someone’s face with a flat _thunk._

The two losers jump in behind him to row away, accompanied by mild screeching and a mantra of ‘_I can’t believe we did that.’_

These brats are so dead.

...once he regains the strenght to kill them. Urgh.

Two heads sigh in relief once the Mainland’s in sight. Phase One of Operation ‘Let’s keep this dangerous creature of unknown origins (name pending)’ went off without a hitch. Except if Xion asks some questions later but that’s a problem for tomorrow’s Naminé.

Phase Two of Operation ‘Let’s keep this dangerous creature of unknown origins (name pending)’ starts now. It’s time to get to Kairi’s house so she can brush her new friend and maybe gve him food. The little guy’s pretty skinny.

Holding him _does_ make Naminé feel a bit better, somehow, almost as if he’s eating her anxiety up. It’s probably just his fur’s soft texture and the ridiculous image of the creature growling at Repliku since Phase One’s execution.

Getting out of the boat and walking round the Mainland proves no problem at all. No one’s out this late (‘cept the people at the celebration), allowing the brave adventuring party to reach Kairi’s house without incident.

Naminé climbs up the porch, Repliku not a step behind. She hands her new friend to him to cram for her keys in her dozens of pockets. With a small cry of victory, Naminé finds the keys, slots them in the door, and Kairi greets her.

“Hey Naminé!” says the girl who_ should be at the party._ “Xion said you’re acting weird so I came to check on you!”

“Uwaa,” responds Naminé in a picture of unbirdled eloquence. Repliku, hiding the creature with his body, reacts equally eloquent by throwing the thing into a nearby bush.

“What was that?” asks Kairi because she is not deaf.

“Uhm_._” _Repliku machine broke, we’re sorry for the inconvenience,_ “A coconut?”

“Yeah,” Naminé feebly adds despite the glaring fact that Kairi’s garden doesn’t have any palm trees, “must’ve fallen somewhere here.”

Kairi tilts her head and giggles, indicating their floundering attempt at teenage rebellion to be both endearing and hilarious. “Must’ve been a coconut, then.”

None shall escape the omnipotent Kairi. Simply hope she thinks it's cute.

“Yep, also I’m alright, bye.”

Naminé steps inside.

“Don’t get in trouble I can’t get you out of!” Kairi speaks to Repliku. Then, she walks back the way she came with a smile and a wave.

Repliku stares at her, then at the bushes. The void stares back and it has ruby red eyes.

“See you tomorrow.”

The void hisses at him.

“Alright, shut up,” Repliku tells it. Since Kairi’s well out of earshot by now, Repliku stomps toward the bushes, picking the void up and swaddling it in his arms after.

“I’m sorry for throwing you-,” the thing scratches his nose, “-first of all.”

The second story window opens up. Once Naminé peeks out, she opens her arms wide. She’s ready for Phase Three.

“Second of all,” Repliku says, arm rearing back, “I’m sorry for doing it again.”

He throws the creature through Naminé’s open window.

Vanitas hates a lot of things. He’s by no means pretentious enough to say he hates _everything_, but counting things he hates is easier than counting things he doesn’t.

Generally, he hates Ventus, and maybe Sora, and all the other do-gooders. He also generally hates every single Xehanort and the Unversed with their cursed existence and himself, too, while he’s at it.

Since, uh, still existing is more of a bummer to him than the whole oblivion business.

But that’s neither here nor there!

Currently, he hates that stupid Replica for throwing him around all evening. He also currently hates Naminé for roping him into this predicament to begin with, and probably himself, too, for allowing this to happen.

What he hates more than all of the above, however, buried in some secret part of his fractured heart beneath darkness and false confidence

is being lonely.

After all is said and done, Naminé lowers him onto a mountain of spare pillows and blankets. Her eyes crinkle a bit when she smiles. Even Repliku, heaving himself inside through the window, grins.

Today Vanitas continues hating a lot of things, and if there’s one or two less than before, that’s no one’s business besides his own.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hewwo it's been a bit. Sorry I was busy watching anime. Take this as a gift from me to me, because today, many years (less than two decades), I was born. That's right, I got motivated to finish this on my bday. Now this boy is old enough to buy persona 5R once it's out in the west.
> 
> I'm not really satsified with how this chapter went? But if i don't get it out now, this fic'll sit in writing purgatory for five years. I have scenes I rlly wanna write, so can't have that!
> 
> (ps: all songs for chapter titles bear no relation to anything happening, it's just music I like. I'm not that deep)
> 
> (*insert obligatory feel free to point out mistakes and criticism bcuz im a german bab and english hard. Be happy im not doing bond-worm-sentences everywhere)
> 
> also calling people by the wrong name is a hypothesis proven by a friend of mine, when he got a mutual friend to respond to the name 'Berta.' Said mutual friend is very much not named Berta. Look A Distraction is a tacting sometimes employed by myself, because it'll never not be funny.
> 
> Buh-bye for now, and see you next time for ch3: the great ice cream fiasco


	3. Arson's kinda overrated (speak for yourself)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> -2 eggs, separated  
-2 cups (470 ml) of milk  
-1/3 cup (67 g) of white granulated sugar  
-1 teaspoon (4.9 ml) of vanilla  
-1 cup (240 ml) of heavy whipping cream  
-1 teaspoon (4.2 g) of sea salt  
-12 drops of blue food coloring  
-3 drops of green food coloring
> 
> _Makes 3-5 servings_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Today's song is _Great at Crime_ by The Musical Ghost ft. OR3O, aka the ending theme of new cartoon Epithet Erased (which is a hilarious show btw)
> 
> now, enjoy today's shenanigans.
> 
>   
[Recipe](https://www.wikihow.com/Make-Sea-Salt-Ice-Cream-from-Kingdom-Hearts/)
> 
> dear god let that link work
> 
> also i only now remembered that floods are kinda blue. hm. irrelevant.

A lesser known fact about the entity generally called Repliku is that he takes cooking classes. Not just _any _cooking classes, mind you. He studies the culinary arts under the careful tutorlage of one _specific_ hero of light and a very talented rat.

There are two main reasons why he subjects himself to hanging out with a guy he attempted to beat into the ground every week.

First, Naminé is a modern Picasso, Da Vinci, Monet, or someone equally important. You too would posses a great admiration for creative hobbies when you‘re meaning in life was to kill people. So yeah, Repliku took up a creative hobby because he admires his best friend.

The second reason again involves his long-since discarded purpose for existing, the lingering inferiority complex haunting him with a baseball bat, prepared to smash his kneecaps at all times, the rewarding feeling of _making_ something instead of destroying it, and the fact that Riku sucks at cooking.

Through this sheer number of facts, Naminé‘s proposal for the day comes as a slightly smaller surprise to Repliku than it could‘ve been.

She clutches two pieces of paper in her arms, ‘Wikihow’ stamped across the top in light green. Isn’t that the latest source of bad ideas around? Like when Tidus’ squad tried to become ghosts.That sounds like a one-way ticket to getting your heart eaten.

“Let’s make seasalt ice cream!”

Repliku scoffs a little. There is a fine line between disagreement and condescending, and Repliku isn’t entirely sure which side he landed on. Whatever he expressed, the still unnamed creature lurking in the kitchen agrees with a small scoff of its own. “Can’t you buy some if you want it that much?”

Naminé looks at him. Like, _looks _looks at him, where she frowns a little and her cheeks puff out like a chipmunk? That face where she’s doing the puppy eyes shtick, but not on purpose so it gains +2 damage to Repliku’s heart melting like butter? That expression, perfectly showing off Kairi’s horrible, horrible influence on this innocent girl?

‘_You can easily make sea salt ice cream at home!’_ the recipie taunts.

“It’s not that hard. It’ll be fun. Can we, please?”

<strike> (Somewhen, in the past, Repliku overheard Kairi telling one flabbergasted Naminé, “ _It’s easy to get stubborn people to do something. Just phrase it as a challenge, and they’ll do it! You don’t even have to challenge them directly. Saying ‘It’s not that hard’ also works, most of the time.”)_ </strike>

“If it’s not that hard, then I can do it with my eyes closed!”

_Argh. Got him.  
_

Part One: Mixing the Ingredients

Step One: Seperate the eggs into 2 seperate bowls. Crack each egg, 1 at a time, and seperate the whites from the yolks. Put the yolks in 1 bowl, and the whites in another bowl.

Naminé picks up one of the prepared eggs, carefully inspecting it for cracks. She slams it against the kitchen table’s corner. The egg, stubborn as it is, refuses to crack. She slams it again, slightly harder. Again, nothing happens. She slams it three more times to absoluetly no effect.

“I’ll handle this.” Repliku takes the unscathed egg from her and slams it against the table. It shatters. The floor, the table, and Repliku’s pants all fall victim to the carnage.

Step Two: Beat the egg whites until they’re stiff. Use an electric mixer or stand mixer set on a low speed for best results. Keep beating the egg whites until they form stiff peaks, which usually takes about 5 minutes.

Once again, Naminé charges ahead (this was her idea, after all). She lifts up the electric mixer. Her arms tremble from the weight (mixers are much heavier than one might expect).

The mixer descends, a hungry eagle upon unsuspecting guinea pigs hanging out in the backyard. It grows closer, its wings whirring and twirling.

“Naminé! Don’t turn it up that high! The eggs will-”

with a swop and a yelp from Naminé, the mixer grips its prey and spills it everywhere, once again ruining the kitchen they both cleaned with blood, sweat, and tears three minutes prior.

Or it would have, if the freeloading thing hadn’t pulled the plug in time. Wait, what?

Innocent as (n)ever, the blue thing stares at Repliku from up on the kitchen counter. Repliku, never one to lose anything, stares right back. Its face betrays no hint of emotion (since it does not have a mouth). The egg whites remain unbeaten, but also off the floor. Repliku averts his eyes and he thinks it giggled.

With a start, he grabs it from the counter, holding it close to his face. This stupid thing dares blink at him, and flicks its dumb antennae into Repliku’s eyes.

The creature clatters to the floor like the eggs it saved would’ve, and scampers off into the kitchen’s sparse shadows.

“Get back here, you sentient bastard!” He yells, but Naminé’s hand on his shoulder shuts off the yell switch in his brain.

“Please don’t yell at him after he saved us.” Ah, Naminé’s ‘You’re being scary’ face. 100% guranteed to make him stop yelling, or else you get your money back.

“Sorry,” he says, feeling a bit like an ass.

“It’s fine. He’s shy. He’ll come back.”

Repliku takes over mixing. Naminé probably can’t hold the mixer long enough anyways, with how skinny she is.

Step Three: Mix 1/3 cup (67 g) of sugar with the egg yolks. Measure out the white granulated sugar and dump it into the bowl with the egg yolks. Stir the ingredients together until they’re fully incorporated.

Naminé measures everything without incident as Repliku broods in a corner. That supposedly mindless heartless look-alike _definetly _knows what it's doing.

Part Two: Heating the Ingredients

“Who would’ve thought you need to heat stuff when making ice cream?” Naminé says, eying the recipie in her hands. She also yells, “You’re not allowed on the table!” to the creature lifting its paw to the remaining sugar. Sneaky bastard returned when Repliku wasn't looking.

Step One: Heat 2 cups (470 ml) of milk in a pot or saucepan until it simmers. Measure out the milk and pour it into a small pot or saucepan. Place the pot or saucepan on your stovetop and heat the milk over medium heat.

_What does simmering milk even look like?_ Repliku thinks. The milk, in all its milky glory, does not answer as he places the heat setting on max. It doesn’t even have the decency to make some bubbles, or _anything_, really. Besides smelling vaguely burnt.

“Naminé! Something’s wrong with the milk!”

He drags a spoon through the substance, and feels it scrape across burned milk chunks at the bottom.

“It says simmer, Repliku. You’re cooking on full blast.” Naminé sighs and turns the heat down.

“It'll be fine."

(Probably.)

Step Two: Pour the heated milk into the yolk and sugar mixture. Remove the milk from the heat once it starts to simmer. Use a pot holder to carefully transfer the hot milk to the bowl with the yolks and white sugar. Stir the ingredients until they’re fully combined.

Nothing goes amiss, even without whatever the hell a pot holder is, because pouring something is kinda hard to mess up. Naminé, with her not that tall stature, stands on her tiptoes to transfer the milk over into the much too big pot of yolk and sugar.

Meanwhile, Repliku keeps up vigilant guard duty. He nudges his newest buddy with his foot, only to remind the bastard that tripping Naminé is rewarded with the death penalty. The thing, aware of impending doom via magic sword, sulks in the corner. It’s _still_ staring at the sugar.

Step Three: Return the milk mixture to the pot and heat it until it thickens. Pour the milk mixture back into your pot or saucepan. Turn the heat to medium and let the mixture cook until it takes on a thick, custard-like texture. This should only take a few minutes.

A strange scent, best described as simply ‘warm milk,’ wafts through the air. After a few minutes, the mixture, much like an author with lacking motivation but boundless lethargy, refuses to change its simmering ways. What a coward.

Unbeknownst to the amateur cooks stalking the milk like hunters do prey, the heating plate is dead and cold.

A shadowy claw reaches for the knob controlling the heat. The hunters, much too lost in their pursuit, do not notice. Soon after, warmth spreads throughout the kitchen.

Slow and unsure, the mixture heats up and simmers, much to the joy of two cooks, who high-five each other as they cheer.

Part Three: Chilling the Mixture

Step One: Stir the thickened mixture into the bowl of egg whites. Use a pot holder to lift the pot or saucepan off the stove and carefully pour the hot, thick mixture into the bowl of stiff egg whites. Stir the mixture well with a wooden spoon to incorporate the ingredients.

Much like two steps previous, the mixing itself faces no difficulty. In fact, the ease with which the egg whites mix is nigh suspicious. Nothing even spilled on the floor!

There is no sign of the propably sentient creature; it has evaporated from Repliku’s sight, so he grips the wooden spoon tight enough he might get splinters. It’s plotting something, he’s sure of it.

If he told Naminé now, she’d be upset he suspected it of misdeeds, but it’s a creature of darkness, but Repliku isn’t exactly a denizen of light himself… but it could harm Naminé! But it hasn’t so far, would it really wait so long? And she likes it a lot, so it's probably good..

The spoon shatters in his grip. Naminé gives him a new one, and he feels just a little guilty.

Step Two: Stir about 1 teaspoon (4.2 g) of sea salt into the mixture. You can adjust the amount of sea salt according to your personal tastes, but 1 teaspoon (4.2 g) will give you a nice balance of sweet and salty flavors. Be careful not to over-salt the mixture.

Repliku busies himself picking splinters out of his skin, when Naminé, sweet as sugar, says “I’ll do the measuring again, alright?”

See, in Repliku’s previously mentioned cooking lessons, no rat in the world could convince him a dish doesn’t have enough spices. He knows bland food, and he knows to avoid it at all costs.

Whenever Naminé’s around, she plays taste-tester, and, unable to insult her friend, always tells him it’s perfect. So one time Naminé was busy with an art contest, meaning wonderful blunt Sora took up her mantle as guinea pig. Meaning Sora said ‘Woah! That’s way too much salt!’ and Repliku gave up cooking for a week 'till both Sora and Naminé got it through his skull that failure is maybe fine sometimes, even though it totally isn't.

Due to this long time being unintentionally being a doormat for her friend, Naminé is immune to sodium poisoning.

(Her measuring everything is more of an unspoken rule to preserve Repliku’s fragile self-esteem.)

  
Step Three:  Cover and chill the mixture in the fridge for about 30 minutes. Stretch plastic wrap over the mouth of the bowl to cover the mixture. Place the covered bowl in your refrigerator for about half an hour to chill the mixture. 

If there’s one thing that’s harder to mess up than pouring something out of a pot, it’s putting it in the fridge. Besides forgetting, of course, which fate is kind enough to not let happen. Nothing else to say here, really.

Step Four: Stir the heavy whipping cream and vanilla into the chilled mixture. Take out the bowl and uncover it. Measure out 1 cup (240 ml) of heavy whipping cream and 1 teaspoon (4.9 ml) of vanilla and dump them into the cooled mixture. Stir the mixture thoroughly with a spatula.

Vanilla extract. Scary. How do you handle it? Who knows? The store _did _have an entire vanilla bean, but do you just… mince it? What then?

So in the end, Naminé sprinkles in some plain old vanilla sugar. If it’s got vanilla in the name, it’ll be a fine substitute, obviously.

Part Four: Adding Color and Freezing the Ice Cream

Step One:  Add the blue and green food coloring. To give the sea salt ice cream its signature color, add 12 drops of blue and 3 drops of green food coloring to the mixture. Fold the food coloring into the mixture and stir the ingredients until the texture and color are consistent. 

Coloring the ice cream is an exact science, one neither Naminé nor Repliku will do half-heartedly. As they deilberate between blue and green, a shadow strikes, swift as the wind.

Naminé holds up the bottles of coloring for Repliku to see. With a hand on his chin, he thinks. The recipie says you can adjust the number of drops for each color to customize the hue, but it _must_ be perfect.

He adds some green. “It’s too much!”

“Then add more blue!”

A collective sigh escapes the two friends. The ice cream grins at them, its hue a sickly greenish blue.

“Should’ve just went for blue,” Repliku mutters.

Some paper rips behind them, the sound loud and clear in their awkward silence. Something lands on the floor with a thump.

Both Naminé and Repliku stare at the scene of the crime in horror.

“Not the vanilla!”

The sneaky bastard ate all the leftover vanilla sugar.

Naminé falls forward in order to catch the criminal. Instead, it slips out of her hands as a liquid shadow, later reappearing atop a cabinet.

Repliku jumps after it with a hand outstretched. Bits of plaster drift to the ground because of his haste (luckily not hitting the ice cream). The thing dares laugh in response.

“You think you’re better than me, huh?” Soul Eater materializes in a flash. He holds the blade above his head in his typical battle stance and points the tip at this dreadful criminal. “We’ll see who gets the last laugh!” More careful than before, he dashes forward. Hence the thing realizes its grave mistake, and presses itself tighter against the wall. Its glare remains unwavering, though.

"Don't you dare." Naminé grabs his shoulder and pulls him back. If looks could kill, as they always say.

"I'd never," Repliku answers, his magic sword drawing ever closer to the thing's obvious hiding spot. After he ruffles Naminé's hair and walks past her, he raises his sword until it almost touches the thing's snout, only to... scrape it off the cabinet with the blade's blunt edge, later catching it in his arms.

“Ha!” Its gangly limbs flail through the air, and it hisses, since Repliku’s hand now grips it by the stretchy scruff of its neck that he's pretty sure is a cat thing. “Don’t think you’ll escape consequence!”

Naminé shuffles toward the repentant (to her relief very alive) criminal. It slashes at her face, or tries to, at least. In turn, Naminé nimbly sidestepts the pathetic attack. Despite awarding it a short, stern look for its performance, she bops the thing on the snoot.

It crosses its arms in a much too human expression for a creature like it.

“As punishment for your actions, you will be named-” _named?_ “-Vanilla!

You see, I’m getting sick of calling you ‘the creature’ or something all the time, so now you get a cute name! Isn’t it adorable? I just thought of it!” The background around Naminé fades into pink gradients and sparkling stars replace her eyes as she flaps her hands around. Evidently, no one will be executed tonight.

“I think it’s great,” Repliku responds, shaking the newly named Vanilla until it (or he, maybe, now that he’s got a name) uncrosses his arms. “He agrees, too.”

Vanilla very much does not agree. In fact, he would very much like to tell both of them to screw off, but urgh, Naminé keeps sparkling at him and he’d hate to be thrown out, after he's managed to piss her off already. He’ll get ice cream out of it, so it doesn’t matter what they call him. At least it has _some_ similarity to his real name.

And no, nothing in his shriveled little heart twirls in joy at getting a nickname for the first time in his live. None. Screw you.

Step Two: ….

They definetly don’t forget this one. They _ definetlly _ don’t skip this step because of their bonding moment. Naminé hugs Vanilla so tight she might crush his nonexistent ribs, and Repliku flashes him a shit-eating grin. Are those skinny arms really strong or is Vanilla’s body just really weak?

Step Three:  Transfer the mixture to molds and freeze the popsicles for 2 hours. Place popsicle sticks into the molds and fill them with the mixture. Freeze the ice pops for 2-3 hours and enjoy! 

“Come on! Try it! You won’t be bored if you’re helping!” A one-woman audience cheers at Vanilla, who currently holds a bowl of unstirred ice cream in his flubby little arms.

(Step Two, you will not be missed)

Ice cream somehow makes its way into the mould. Though only with Repliku’s help and a shit-eating grin Vanitas wants to punch so bad.

“Great work!” Vanitas squints at Naminé. Since he doesn’t have a mouth, his expressions require skill to read. Naminé swears he’s smiling. He is very much not.

We skip to two hours later, when Naminé takes the popsicles out.

The moment of truth has arrived. Now, the unlikely trio of cooks taste the fruits of their labour.

_Salty, yet sweet._ Sea salt ice cream is weird, Naminé thinks. No other way to go about it. At first, only salt greets her tongue. But, upon tasting a little longer, a clear aroma of milk appears. Just milk, though, not really sweet. That might’ve been because of the accidents with the definition of ‘simmering,’ but who is she to say, huh? Maybe it’s meant to taste like that!

Another weird thing about the ice cream: the more you eat, the worse it tastes. The taste doesn’t _change _and it isn't _bad,_ really, it adds up with salt and milk and little else to turn into a hulking beast of strange proportions. Like a heartless with more legs instead of a head.

The lingering flavour delights her, though. So maybe the ideal way of eating sea salt ice cream is one bite every few minutes? Sure is lucky Naminé chose the ice moulds with lids. They’ve got cute teddy bears on the sticks!

Maybe the ideal way of eating sea salt is just. Chomping down. Like Repliku, sitting opposite Naminé at the kitchen table. The flavour can’t get unbearable if you eat quick enough! He’s seen Roxas do it a bunch of times, and that guy’s respectable. Good in a fight. Angry a lot. Hates Riku, but feels kinda conflicted about it nowadays. And he’s also the resident devourerer of anything sea salt, so it must be fine.

Just bite it with your goddamn sharp teeth, cold is for weaklings!

The newly dubbed Vanilla (urgh) eyes his bowl of ice cream on the floor, as well as Repliku writhing with brain freeze. First of, serves him right.

Second of, this stuff reminds him of something. He sees someone else, someone with hair just as white, in Repliku's place. A different girl, with black hair instead of blonde, giggling at him. Something else, too. Red, red, a red scarf! The guy had always worn that stupid red scarf.

Who were they again?

“Hey, Vanilla, do you like it?”

The memory of him tells the girl, _'wow, this tastes kinda bad. How do you guys like this?'_ Although, that's then, and this is now. He turns toward the impossibly blue eyes shining on him, and nods.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hi i love repliku and his tendency in com to always wanna fight (meanwhile, namine: "please don't")
> 
> argh writing people consistently is hard and i think i messed up already.
> 
> so it's been a month. 2k of this chapter were written... two days ago? I've been dealing with stuffs. stuffs like exams. or officially getting diagnosed with psychosomatic anxiety. ykno. average stuff. (to be fair, i updated a different fic _twice_ in that time)
> 
> other fun facts: I copy-paste namine's name while writing. I'm definetly not setting up plot anywhere in this chapter, i swear.
> 
> ALSO I did NOT almost burn the milk making sea salt ice cream and I DIDN'T spill salt everywhere, no sir. Try it sometime that shit tastes SO weird. But maybe it's bcuz i totally didn't burn the milk. Followed the recipie to a t. 
> 
> Next Time: This Is Part Of A Series So Let's Get That Continuity
> 
> merrry holidays yall and happy new decade in advance!
> 
> also also please tell me if i use words that don't exist! that happens sometimes (though more often in german, bcuz of its sheer 'make-up words on the spot' potential)


	4. I Want To Connect (But the wi-fi sucks)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Repliku loses his phone and Vanitas finds a weird box.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Today's song is the tagline of pretty much every episode of the anime Sarazanmai. Lovely music.
> 
> If there's any weird quotation marks please point it out because i had the document set to german for way too long

Focus.

_Just_ focus on the things in front. Level your gaze with your shoulders, push your fist with all your might, make sure to use your hips, make sure your arm doesn‘t twist; one straigh line between you and the air. Don‘t forget to yell!

Now do it again. Focus on the things in front. Keep up your stance- hey wait a sec. Where‘s your phone again? The first one you ever had (at the tender age of two years old), the one with the purple case? Isn‘t it-

Right, right. Punching stuff. You‘ll find out if it‘s in your bag later. Now focus on your punching so the trainer stops glaring at you. He‘s got a nose for slackers, you remember.

What‘s the worst that could happen with a missing phone anyways?

One day, while one white-haired boy did martial arts in the name of anger management, a darker boy nowadays referred to as Vanilla (much to his dismay) finds a strange device.

Because he is terribly, terribly bored whenever the only people aware Vanitas exists hang out at ‘school‘ or training or whatever, he rummages around their stuff in search of entertainment. The box with people inside still weirded him out, so spare sports bag it is. Could be munny inside or something.

The thing he finds is rectangular, and purple. One side contains something smooth (maybe glass?) and weird buttons decorate its left. Vanitas smacks them.

A bright flash assaults his fragile eyeballs, shortly after revealing a picture of Naminé and Repliku, laughing as they push each other into the ocean.

To one such as Vanitas, a full depiction of his caretakers, all details included, in full color, is a wondrous thing. Not once in his life could he recall such a detailed image. The most he‘d seen were illustrated books, but the stylized depictions of ancient rites cannot compare to what he laid eyes on now.

He taps a little grey bar with weird symbols. In violent response, music slams into his eardrums. He throws the phone against the wall behind him, though the music continues to proclaim its existence using bass hard enough to override his heartbeat.

After covering the places ears should be with his paws or nubs or what-have-you, Vanitas crawls back toward the phone and smashes one of his appendages against the box, and the two lines turn into a triangle, whatever these weird symbols mean.

The music stops. Vanitas slumps together in relief. This thing will be entertaining for sure.

Naminé encounters a phenomenon. A minor annoyance, really, but somewhat disturbing nonetheless. Her house (and Kairi‘s, by extension) may or may not be haunted. Might just be Vanilla, though. He‘s a phenomenon all by himself.

Almost every night, when a clock somewhere would strike midnight, quiet music rises to her ears from beneath her bed.

The monster beneath her bed, likely responsible, dragged all his blankets there. He loves lounging in the dark whenever not perched on Namine‘s enormous bookshelf, scanning her harmless room for non-existant danger. That, or he finds watching Namine draw entertaining somehow.

Fact of the matter is, there‘s music beneath her bed, there‘s a monster beneath her bed, two plus two equals four, ergo the monster beneath her bed listens to music.

Two or so nights of hardbass are, quite frankly, vexing. Since the word vexing reminds Naminé of her former ‘associate‘ Vexen (who was vexed very often), she promptly replaces that thought with ‘bothersome’. Two or so nights of hardbass are bothersome. Much better.

Stray thoughs aside, dadaist word salad replaced the hardbass making her bed vibrate. Alright. Naminé throws off her flower-patterned blanket, rubs the sand out of her eyes, and rises out of bed onto the creaking wooden floor.

As soon as the creak rung out to alert the entire island that Naminé‘s awake, the music stops.

Her white nightgown scrapes across the dusty floor. With one hand on the bed and the other on the floorboards, Naminé leans down, peering into the abyss beneath her bed. The abyss peers back with his red eyes. Eyes that soon turn elsewhere. The abyss appears embarrased.

“Vanilla,“ she whispers. Nohting changes, except a subtle shifting in the shadows. “Do you want headphones?“

He tilts his head, only noticable because his eyes now hang in the void diagonally. Creatures of darkness tend not to know what headphones are, right. No need for entertainment when they usually kill stuff for fun.

Upon further inspection and a lot of squinting, Vanilla clutches a block in his claws. Not a block, a phone. “Isn’t that Repliku‘s phone?“ She points at the purple case, identical to the one he lost two weeks back. The case even got a dent in the same spot, from when Repliku threw it against a wall those two or twenty times.

“He already has a new one. Be glad it‘s-“ the clock on her nightstand lights up once she hits the switch on top, the searing light revealing ‘3:12‘, “-three in the morning. I‘ll teach tech to you tomorrow. Please let me sleep now, thank you.“

Naminé crawls back into bed. On her way, she bumps her knee against the safety railing- more for her blanket than anything else- and hits the pillow face first with a groan. She‘s got to explain this to Repliku, too. But it all can wait until morning.

Repliku finds out eventually, about the theft of his phone. It happens like this, at Riku‘s house. In the kitchen, five minutes after Repliku served mashed potatoes with carrots and chicken for lunch. A miracle appears to grant the food the proper amount of salt. It’s pretty tasty.

When Naminé opens her mouth to explain, Repliku rushes ahead with a query of his own. “Namine, I think Vanilla is sentient. And I know he‘s the one who-“ The little bastard _knows_ perfectly well what he‘s doing when he ate Repliku‘s lunch. Or when he sleeps on Repliku‘s clothes.

Naminé holds up a hand, stopping him from devolving into an hour long rant. “I know,“ she says, because she knows no mindless creature enjoys edgy music.

“You WHAT? And you didn‘t tell me?? Why??“

She opens her mouth in an o shape, silent. Did she even sleep tonight. “I think I always knew? So I assumed you did, too.“ The little guy struck her as special. He comforted her then, after all.

“How did- How did you know?“ Repliku continues to be flabbergasted. Bamboozled.

“Vanilla‘s like us, in a way.“

Repliku shuts his mouth. His arms that were ǵesturing wildly still where they are. He. Hmm. Oof. He rubs his left arm with his right, and looks at the empty kitchen chair Vanilla likes most. “Like us how?“

"He‘s sort of a person, you know? Like us.”

“I do.” If he’s like that, then… his second self-proclaimed nemesis got something in common with him after all.

Naminé doesn‘t look him in the eyes. She‘s looking at his face, yes, but her eyes are bleary, clearly saying she hasn‘t slept well today, more so than the permanent bags beneath her eyes. It‘s been this way ever since, well, everything previous to their lives on Destiny Islands. “Promise me to be nicer to him?”

And with all the history rearing its claws between the both of them, promises are not made lightly. Promises are reserved for special occasions, for moving lights in the sky and memories held close.

Promises are reserved for half-baked existences lost in this flickering world.

"I promise more than that. I‘ll be his friend, just like us.“ He stands up from the kitchen table, walks over to Naminé, and wraps her in a hug in the poorly lit light of Riku‘s kitchen. Steam rises from the remaining food, the curtains sway with the sea breeze.

“And I also promise, like I _tried _to say earlier-“ he steps out of the hug, raises a fist in the air, and bellows with a grin full of more promise than his words, "that I‘ll get that sneaky bastard for stealing my phone! Even _if _the new one‘s better, asking Ienzo for a replacement was _horrible_! He hates me!“

Naminé laughs. This went better than her wildest dreams, with what might be rock blasting in the background.

Later on, Vanitas would not witness how the rest of the conversation went. Only that it involved a bit of yelling, more laughter, maybe a couple of bribes, and the knowledge that the entertainment machine is his for good now.

And what entertainment it was! ‘Chatting,‘ as writing with this ‘smartphone‘ is called, is so much fun! He can call people stupid, and they won‘t have the chance to beat him up! This era‘s technology is the greatest delight he‘s ever received! It might‘ve taken his two idiots to explain everything, but every second of lecuring was worth it.

Like now, for instance. People posted realistic pictures of _themselves_ to the internet, and through this miraculous happenstance, he found an account belonging to none other than Aqua. The woman whose name meant water.

He calls her name dumb (and Terra‘s and Ventus‘ while he‘s at it) as soon as the thought appears in his mind.

Aqua‘s post, also known as the battlefield of wits, contained the following:

-A picture of Aqua holding a water bottle. She is sweating heavily, and standing in front of a collapsed Terra, face up on the grass in the Land of Departure.

-A caption by the account _DiamondDuster_ reading ‘Better stay hydrated or you’ll end up like that rock over there!’

-A comment saying ‘Water holding water. Earth on the earth. What.’

-A confused reply by the account simply stating ‘What do you mean?’

-(A long series of back and forth between poster and commenter, eventually devolving into capslock, containing the phrases ‘THAT IS _LITERALLY _MY NATIVE LANGUAGE WHAT ARE YOU ON’ and ‘That language has been dead for _centuries! _How would someone like you know what my name means!’ along the way.)

<strike>-(Aqua looking into a lexicon in her late master’s library, and realizing, ‘Huh, that guy was right. He’s still a jerk though’)</strike>

Fine and dandy. Indeed. Then, Vanitas looked upon a photo of his face. Or Sora’s face, or someone else who also had Sora’s face. Disgusting faker. The post itself denoted the double as Sora’s ‘little cousin,’ even including another Riku look-alike to complete the set.

‘please not another one there are ENOUGH of us,’ Vanitas comments, shutting off his phone afterward.

Truly, the sights to see and the people to meet, in the world wide web.

Like an extended sky, uniting all worlds.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this chapter specially features 'hardbass night' by ferry and 'stuff is way' by they might be giants as hardbass and dadaist word salad respectively.
> 
> ANyways this chapter isn't as over edited as usual, because I'm gonna be in england next week and want to have this out before then! If you know any sights in london i should check out, feel free to tell me (specially if you can recommend any bookstores)
> 
> have a cameo from my boys from the previous fic in the series! Turns out when I said they were gonna be unrelated I lied. The boys are gonna appear at some point and they will be important but only as side characters because this is losers fic and not good boys fic that one's over.
> 
> also also i rlly need to figure out how to tie all the character development together, since i got rough ideas for all of them, know what the climax is gonna be like, but don't rlly know how to get there. (and also i got distracted writing a oneshot for another fandom and got that other fic still lying around and-)
> 
> so hasta la byeonara you lovely people. To everyone who commented, I would die for you. Bye Bye!


	5. BONUS: the internet is a new land for us all

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> a look into the going ons of Heartstagram

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> today's song is a very memed quote by german chancellor Angela Merkel. Truly, das Internet ist für uns alle Neuland. and now have some stupid shenanigans i forgot to include in the last chapter
> 
> Name's for everyone:  
UnversedInEmotion: Vanitas  
Novum: Repliku  
MysteriousYam: Namine  
SkateOrDie: Roxas  
Xeashells: Xion  
got-it-memorized: Axel  
KingdomKeywielder: Sora  
hitlikeabrick: Terra  
WayToDawn: Riku  
theres_a_new_land: data-sora!! my son boy taivas. im happy he is here  
angels_in_flight: data-riku!! aka himoyachi. what are those names?? well. the new ones i gave em in my previous fic bcuz things got confusing VERY fast
> 
> i know this chapter is a mess but it's there more so that i can ask yall stuff at the end and also so i dont have to think about this stupid stuff anymore

**UnversedInEmotion** posted:

This account is free real estate get bent

this is mine now

if youre wondering who this is its none of your business

** Novum** replied to your post:

HE STOLE MY PHONE. 

** UnversedInEmotion** replied to **Novum**:

YOU GOT A NEW ONE

** Novum** replied to you:

STILL

**struggle_official **posted:

Get ready to #struggle ! In exactly one month, the struggle returns! Will anyone beat the reigning champ Roxas?

** SkateOrDie** replied to **struggle_official**:

no

** Novum** replied to **SkateOrDie**:

WE’LL SEE ABOUT THAT

** SkateOrDie** replied to **Novum**:

try me

**UnversedInEmotion** posted:

you need mouths to eat? Losers.

** KingdomKeyWielder **replied to you:

hhow. do you eat.

** UnversedInEmotion** replied to **KingdomKeywielder**:

wouldn’t you like to know

**UnversedInEmotion** posted:

at age 12 I was born without a face

** Novum** replied to you:

at age 14 I was born without a heart

** Xeashells** replied to you:

my face used to be up to viewer interpretation

** theres_a_new_land** replied to you:

I’m 1.5 yrs old!!

** UnversedInEmotion** replied to **Novum,** **Xeashells **and** theres_a_new_land**

YOU. You get it

**UnversedInEmotion** posted:

what is love

** got-it-memorized** replied to you:

baby don’t hurt me

** SkateOrDie** replied to got-it-memorized:

dont hurt me

** Xeashells** replied to SkateOrDie:

no more

** UnversedInEmotion** replied to got-it-memorized:

I was asking for real

** got-it-memorized** replied to you:

hm

**DestinyIslands_events** posted:

Don’t miss the upcoming art contest next month! All prints will be available for sale to renovate local schools!

** MysteriousYam** replied to **DestinyIslands_events**:

Thank you so much for having me!!

** Novum** replied to **MysteriousYam**:

YOU’LL WIN

** MysteriousYam** replied to **Novum**:

thanks!! but it’s not about winning, it’s about art!

** Novum** replied to **MysteriousYam**:

then you’ll win anyways

** hitlikeabrick** replied to **MysteriousYam**:

I will be sure to visit

**KingdomKeywielder** posted:

happy birthday @WayToDawn !!!!!

** WayToDawn** replied to **KingdomKeywielder**:

thank you, but its next month.

** KingdomKeywielder** replied to **WayToDawn**:

I. I thought it was next month. Have I rlly only been gone for 3??

**theres_a_new_land** posted:

GET THIS GET THIS!!!!!!!!! Himo💖 and I’ll be at destiny islands coming next week!!!!! HYPE!!! I wanna know what school does!!!

** angels_in_fligh**t replied to **theres_a_new_land**:

it’s about time for you to stop relying on your calculator

** theres_a_new_land** replied to a**ngels_in_flight**:

says mister ‘my brain is a database’. How’d YOU know how to cross a street without looking it up!

** UnversedInEmotion** replied to **theres_a_new_land**:

which planet are you even from

** t****heres_a_new_land** replied to you:

the internet✨✨✨

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> me, trying to come up with usernames: nam.. banan... yam..  
also taivas and himoyachi get lyrics from sanctuary a) a new land -> the german the internet is a new land meme and b) sanctuary is a gay anthem pass it on
> 
> also.... i dont want to go too long without updates on this, but im BUSY with an upcoming presentation and the report on what i've been up to in england. soo i can only rlly get writing again after the 14th!
> 
> and now, lovely people, it's time to ask you what you want!  
for repliku's new name, the lovely vermilionSerene suggested Anton, Tamas, and Naoyuki! tamas would be out because i already have taivas running around, but those other two suggestions are much better than what i came up with (which is repliku's username novum, meaning new in latin, since i gotta use my latin skills for something)
> 
> next, upcoming story arcs!  
the next one is already decided (it'll be the data boys! got a couple of things written already, and. not all of them are fluff ngl. made myself a bit sad thinking what im gonna do to everyone's favourite trio)  
but otherwise, you might've noticed three other things cropping up, all of which happen to take place in a month. That's bcuz i dont know what order to put them in! So what do you want to see most, the struggle tournament featuring the sea-salt trio, a scramble for a birthday gift with sora and riku, or namine's art contest featuring terra? i'll do all of them at some point, but i'd like to know what you guys think!
> 
> i had a great time in england btw, even if english bread barely deserves to even qualify as toast. met some lovely people, did some cool stuff, but the ensuing report is. not so fun.  
anyway, bye-bye yall, and thank you so much to everyone who's commented so far! You make me write twice as fast (even if thats not all that much)


	6. the coolest (most annoying) kids in the world

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Destiny Island's high school gets two new students. Repliku doesn't take the news particularly well.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Today's song is 'Punch it, Punk!' by ferry. :3c
> 
> when i said 'light sprinkling of angst possible,' this is what i meant 
> 
> also my boys from my previous kh fic are here! I think the minimum gets explained in the chapter itself, so you dont _really_ need to read my previous fic to get this chapter, but if you want data sora and data riku being cute for three chapters it's the previous work in the series this fic's in...

“Hey, have you heard? We’re getting two new transfer students.”

“Really? Again?”

“Yep. More ‘mysterious cousins’ no one’s heard of before.”

“I’m still convinced Repliku’s a clone. I mean, it’s _in the name.”_

“Yeah, yeah. I don’t care. The new one’s one of Sora’s weird relations and ‘nother Riku. ‘cept he dyes his hair, I guess.”

“How many brothers does Sora even have? Does he hide them in his closet and pull one out whenever?”

“Pretty sure he does. ‘specially with those twins. ‘cept they’re not twins, or something. I think only one of them’s related to Sora at all, actually. The other has like, an actual twin. Who’s probably dead? I stopped listening at that point.”

“How are you up to date on _all _rumors and don’t bother remembering any of it? _Please_ give me your power.”

“Gotta be good for something, I guess. Even if it’s fueling your conspiracy theories.”

“Listen, one day I’ll find evidence they’re all aliens and win a fortune in the betting pool.”

“Sure, and we all _totally_ listened to you in elementary school when you said Kairi’s from space.”

“Oh you know there’s no other way-”

The bell rings and the teacher puts his books down. “Alright everyone, keep your chatter for break, I’ve got an announcement to make.

“As _some_ of you already know, two new students will be joining us today. Due to previous complaints from our other transfers-” he pointedly does _not_ look at Repliku and Namine sitting in the back row, “- I ask you to keep all insensitive theories to yourself. Either ask them yourself and be polite about it or shut up.

“With that out of the way, they should be here any minute now.”

Naminé could hear the new kids before she saw them. The _clack-clack-clack_ of too many zippers and necklaces echoes down the hallway all the way through the classroom door.

Two pairs of footsteps, not quite in sync but almost there, accompany the shrill sounds. With the opening of the classroom door, not only her ears, but also her eyes, receive the pleasure of being metaphorically assaulted by a guy claiming as much space in her perfception as humanly possible.

That is a lot of neon.

So much neon, in fact, that Naminé doesn’t catch his name, only the dramatic gesture to a boy in (thank the heavens) a pastel sweater. The fact he wears a sweater _at all _on Destiny Islands while not dying a fiery death somehow makes him a tad more impressive than his companion, the walking traffic light.

In the seat besides Naminé, Repliku tenses. Distracted by their questionable fashion choices as she was (do they know _anything_ about color theory?), Naminé overlooked one tiny detail: the new kids look exactly like slightly younger versions of Sora and Riku.

The neon kid might be just another face in the Sora-shaped crowd (which halfway includes Naminé herself) but the pastel boy, whether his hair’s dyed lavender or not, would be an issue.

_Oh boy._

Pastel boy bows to the class, saying “Thank you for having me,” or something of the sort, and Naminé _softly_ places a hand on Repliku’s shoulder, if only to remind him that grinding his teeth to dust won’t make the new kid disappear.

Repliku responds to her by unnclenching his jaw and pulling out a new pencil to replace the one he just snapped in half.

The rest of the class passes as it always does (with Naminé doodling in her notebook), yet the usually studious Repliku, instead of, you know, _listening, _uses the blackboard as an excuse to _subtly_ stare down the new kid in the second row.

At least no combat has happened yet.

The bell rings once, twice, thrice, in the way Naminé’s grown to expect over the last year, and she’s off to lunch before the teacher gets any fancy ideas like, say, assigning homework after class already ended.

Repliku follows a step behind, and if she stops him from walking against a wall instead of out the door, that’s her business.

At lunch, Naminé and Repliku sit at what has been dubbed the ‘aliens’ table, since it’s former occupants (Sora, Riku, and Kairi) tended to be a bit _out there_, to say the least.

Out _where_? That’s an answer Naminé knows, and all of Destiny Islands desperatly wants.

With the exception of Sora’s moms, Riku’s parents, and the mayor, who all had a very long talk a week before two of the bunch aquired some new children. Or three now? Maybe Sora’s moms have two more kids for their growing collection.

Right now though, in this instant, Naminé eats her sandwich with cheese and cucumbers like a normal person. Meanwhile, Repliku makes use of his ridiculously sharp teeth to devour his in at most three bites.

“You could speak with him, you know,” Naminé says between mouthfuls of sandwich.

Her friend continues staring his lunchbox into submission. “Like you’re one to talk.”

“That’s mean.”

“Sorry. I’m not mad at you, it’s just-” he leans back and crosses his arms, “-hard. I guess.”

“Another reason to talk with him.”

Repliku gestures vaguely in an attempt to convey past existential crises, but Naminé stares right past him, over his shoulder.

“Um, hi? Could we like, talk?”

Standing right behind him are Sora No. who knows and Riku 3, balancing their own lunch trays.

The boy in horrible neons coughs into his fist. “Hey, so,” he says, “I’m Taivas, by the way, if you didn’t already know, and uh,” he glances at Repliku, who very much _glares_ at pastel boy for existing in the same room as him, “you’re making Himoyachi kinda nervous? So could you maybe stop glaring at him?”

In response, Repliku closes his lunchbox with enough force to snap it in half. Which it does. The latch’s meager efforts to keep it together fail as the two halves splinter apart. “When he stops having that face, maybe.”

A lightbulb fires on in Taivas’ brain. He steps back, positions his fingers in a frame around Repliku’s face and squints. After several seconds that (probably) involve heavy mental lifting, he snaps his fingers, and exclaims “Ohhh! You’re the one from the-” only to cut himself off.

“The one from the?” Repliku repeats as his eyebrows ascend to new heights.

“Nevermind that!” Taivas waves it off like batting away a fly. “I just remembered I’ve met you two before, kinda.”

Now it’s Naminé’s turn for her eyebrows to scale the mountains of Arendelle. Since she’s the sole sorta Sora with any sort of reliable memory, and she very much does not remember meeting a look-alike with neon green shorts. “When?”

He scratches his cheek. “Well, maybe two years ago now? Himo’s better with numbers but it was a digital recording of you?”

OH. _That. _Naminé _does_ remember _those_ shenanigans with DiZ (whom she’d rather not recall) so he must be some sort of…

“Data-Sora?”

“Yup! The one and only!”

“How are you.. not data?” Very delicatly put.

“Oh, you know.” He shrugs. “Theft.”

“What.”

At Naminé’s question, Repliku snaps out of the staring contest he and his double were engrossed in (though one more willingly than the other). “Anyone care to fill me in?”

“I’m a digital, well, more physical now, copy of Sora, and that over there-,” he points to the pastel boy beside him with a flick of the wrist, “-is Himoyachi aka Data-Riku aka Jiminy’s Journal aka my lovely database-for-brains know-it-all boyfriend.”

The offically introduced Himoyachi runs red to the tips of his ears. “At least one of us can do math.”

“To get back on topic,” he says, still an android tomato, “I would prefer it if you could state your complaints instead of brooding silently. It’s making me paranoid.”

“Your face bothers me,” Repliku states his complaints and offers no further explanaition of his inner machinations.

“My face?” Himoyachi lifts a hand to his face, as if checking it didn’t run away. “Because I am another copy of Riku and you are the Riku Replica?”

“Yes,” replies Repliku, rising from his seat on the bench to Himoyachi’s eye-level. “And don’t call me that.”

“Do you have another name to go by?”

“Repliku.”

Taivas taps Himoyachi on the shoulder. As soon as he got his boyfriend’s attention, Taivas crosses his arms in an X in front of his chest, telepathically communicating ‘_Whatever you’re about to say, don’t.’_

“That’s not much better, is it?”

Once again, Taivas uses his non-verbal communication skills to tell Naminé, _‘__This isn’t good.’_

She replies with an equally concerned gaze, _‘It really isn’t.’_

“That’s none of your business.” Repliku’s brows furrow. He appears a bit miffed at Himoyachi’s comment. A lot miffed.

A brave batter stepping up to pitch, Taivas says, “He can’t change his face, you know. But you _could_ change the way you act, maybe?”

Aannd he misses the ball. “Why should I?”

Another try. Get in position, gather your social graces, and swing! “Because you’re scaring my boyfriend and that’s bad?”

Another miss. One more and you’re out. “Why doesn’t _he_ just change?!”

Last try, “What do you mean? He has? You haven’t even met him before today?” This entire conversation is going to make Taivas cross-eyed, he swears silently.

Repliku, in the fashion of someone angry without good reason and about to make bad decisions, pushes Taivas back. He stumbles, colliding with Himoyachi. Disbelief stands written on his face. “Dude. What-”

After catching Taivas, lifting him up, circling around and putting him back down behind himself in one smooth motion, Himoyachi speaks up again. “Look, I think I see what the problem is. I’ve heard of you before. I’ve got the data about Castle Oblivion.”

“What?” Repliku bares his teeth. _How _dare_ he assume-_

Naminé’s soft voice sounds out from behind him, “Please, let him finish.”

He scoffs. “Fine, go on.”

“I know what happened to you,” Himoyachi continues, “I get it. You feel bad because I’m _another_ Riku, or rival, or whatever. But I’m not.

“I’m not here to usurp your title or something. I thought, ‘Hey, Taivas and I don’t know anything about the world’ and when we asked Sora he said ‘You two could go to school!’ so here we are!”

He throws his arms in the air after he finishes without pausing to breathe. They fall back down as he recollects himself, and he clears his throat.

“I’m not Riku, so maybe stop pretending I am.”

Worst case scenario, a fight breaks out on the spot.

Current scenario, Repliku swings forward, catching Himoyachi fist on cheek. Himoyachi trips backward and crashes to the floor. On the way down, his head catches on the bench of the table behind him. Sparks flicker out of his head, yet he doesn’t get up.

Naminé gasps and Repliku falters. What had he _done?_

Half the cafeteria looks their way with varying degrees of shocked at the sudden hit.

Taivas’ knees give out under him; he lands at Himoyachi’s side within a second. Even after shaking his friend back and forth, he remains unresponsice.

“Cure!” Green light and bells surround them both, World Order be damned. “C’mon! You can’t leave me now, not like_ this.”_

As he rises back to his feet, tears gather in Taivas’ eyes along with sparks in his hands. “What has he_ done_ to make you so mad?! We wanted to be friends, did you know? Do you realize how hard it was for us to even_ be_ here?!”

The sparks dance around his fingertips. Except for the crackle of electricity, all those present, be they bystanders or not, stay silent. Naminé slides down the bench, a bit further away.

“We wanted to be _normal, for once._ We finally got to talk to actual _people, _and not some NPC throwing the same four one-liners my way again and again and_ again_, alright?!”

A hand wraps around Taivas’ leg. He freezes, the sparks dying out alongside his rage. “Stop it. I’m fine. It’s not like you to get so angry.” Himoyachi pulls himself up into a sitting position, rubbing his head. “I’ll feel that ‘til next week though.”

Taivas helps his boyfriend stand back up to full height. He pouts before tugging on Himoyachi’s sleeve. “He _ hurt _you!”

In response, Himoyachi places his hand in Taivas’ and sends him a brief yet reassuring smile. It fades once he adresses Repliku again. “I’m not the one who hurt you. Please reconsider your actions.”

The bell rings, so he walks out with his friend. Most bystanders disperse and hurry to their classes.

Left in the dust beneath the shocked gazes of half a dozen stragglers, Repliku dashes out the other entrance.

Chatter emerges with his departure, but Naminé doesn’t say a word. Instead, she packs away her lunchbox, as well as the remains of Repliku’s, and follows him out the door.

She scans the hallways on her way to her next class, when she spots a boy with unmistakable white hair facing a wall. Just as she reaches out to speak with him, her homeroom teacher hurries down the hallway.

“There you two are,” he says. “Is he alright?”

Repliku snaps out of his stupor, blinking. “Am I in trouble?”

“Yes, I suppose. Again. You’ll have to accompany me to the principal’s office, I’m afraid. And you-,” he turns to Naminé, “-should hurry to class.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> HEY GUYS! The data boys are here! And Himoyachi got punched in the face! Ain't that great.
> 
> This is the point where i justify myself and say, something like this had to happen because Repliku would DEFINETLY project his insecurities on someone else. He very much strikes me as a 'channels inner anger outward' kinda guy. _soo_
> 
> and taivas inherited sora's disposition of 'if you hurt me i dont care but hurt my friends and i WILL go feral on you' so there's that. He would've straight up thundaga'd Repliku lol.
> 
> this chapter originally contained the conclusion to this whole debacle, but it spiraled out of control and yall get a two.parter! sorry not sorry.
> 
> i reread my fic with the data boys and it had so many spelling errors in it??? how'd that happen?? pwease tell me if you see any. I'm gonna go reread this fic too and go on a correcting spree.
> 
> also first chapter without vanitas in it! He WILL get to be protag for an entire chapter once i'm done with this mini-arc. and then i'm taking the character development stick to namine.
> 
> writing angst makes me feel as bad as reading angst and I?? was vry sad writing this. HOWEVER, there will be a happy ending here. it'll just.. take a week or maybe more.
> 
> im not gonna bother yall with more notes, happy carneval to all who celebrate it, feel the bass in your bones as i do the one leaking through my window as i write this. 
> 
> bye bye!!
> 
> (ps: i chose punch it punk for the title because i am mean.)
> 
> (pps: i think me always writing silly might've made this chapter bad?? I'm not sure. I don't wanna make fun of the characters for having issues but also i dont rlly know any other way to write except being silly. idk guys. repliku is strong enough to absentmindedly snap a pencil in half though.)
> 
> (ppps: did taivas reference a prequel i havent written yet by recognizing repliku? yeah. I'm thinking ahead with that _continuity._ Not with canon, though, since that already failed as soon as i watched the limit cut episode, _right_ after uploading the bonus chapter. what do you mean sora's been gone a year. on the other hand, more data-sora! which i can use for the unwritten prequel. one day... this is post-canon i can do what i want.)


	7. Moons and Headlights

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Repliku has a chat with three different people. The last one leads to something new.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here you go! The conclusion to me trying to write anything besides humor.
> 
> Today's song is 'Look-A-Like' from the sonic movie. The 19-something ova one. It is also a total jam.
> 
> this chapter features an assortment of pillows and plushies i actually own.

The teacher approaches Repliku. “You remember how to get to the principal’s office, right?”

He nods.

“Of course you do. Don’t leave her waiting, alright?”

Repliku wanders off in a daze. Sometime later, two minutes at most, though it feels like much more, he finds himself in front of a door. A label next to it reads ‘105, Principal’s office’

There’s many different ways one can knock on a door. Knuckles, backhanded, knocking only once or five times or a heavy fist slamming exactly one-two-three.

No matter how a hand meets a door the end result is the same. A voice calls, “Come in.”

The door creaks open and Repliku sneaks onto the beige floor to one of the chairs in front of a polished wooden desk. In the other two chairs sit two too familiar faces, one adorned in a purple sweater with a matching purple cheek. Repliku glances at it only briefly; a new feeling in his gut does not permit more.

The principal, a stout woman who despite all attempts to maintain a smile is rubbing her forehead with a frown, says, “What am I going to do with you. These two told me what happened.” Great. “And even if they don’t blame you, after you almost broke Hibiki’s nose this month I felt the need to call your brother.” Even _better._

“I admit, I am not equipped to handle issues of your calibre.” How nice of her to say. “But I sincerely hope you can work this out. I know what happened, Repliku, but why? Isn’t he your cousin?”

He crosses his arms. The floor got cleaned recently. Last week’s unidentified stain is gone. “None of your business.”

“And you, Himoyachi?”

There’s three seperate pictures of cats on the desk, all brown with black stipes and a white belly. “I have an idea, but it’s not my place to tell you.”

Someone knocks on the door with knuckles rapping one-two-three-four-five.

“Come in, please.”

In steps the third piece of a matching set.

“What do you want.” The floor stain might’ve been coffee, from those empty mugs always on the desk. Maybe it got knocked over by some other troublemaker.

“I want to talk with you. _With_ you, not _at _you. This has gone on long enough,” Riku says.

He pauses for a moment before speaking to the principal. The floor remains the most interesting thing in Repliku’s vision. “Would it be alright to take him home for the day? I don’t think class would be useful for him like this.”

The principal smiles for the first time since all this started. “Oh, yes. That would be fine. I agree it would benefit all those involved.”

And just like that, they leave without as much as a ‘sorry.’ In awkward silence, as Riku fishes for words to say, only for Repliku to snap every metaphorical fishing rod in half, like the not so metaphorical lunchbox.

At one point, all Repliku hears is a hushed conversation a seat over. Next thing he knows, it’s a door slamming shut behind him.

That door is the door to his room, and he slammed it shut on Riku’s face as soon as Riku says “We need to talk about this.”

They don’t need to talk about this.

All Repliku needs right now is right on his bed. A big pile of all colors of the rainbow, different shapes and sizes sitting snug on the foot of his bed in the left-hand corner of the room. All very fluffy and very throwable. A hoard of pillows, the opposite to Naminé’s blanket army.

The one he picks, a green one with clovers sewn on, is rough against his hand, the hand-me-down from who knows where frayed from many washes. It sails through the air and hits a blank spot of wall, kept that way for this exact purpose.

The next one’s shape resembles a hamburger. Sora got it for him as a gift when Repliku first started cooking. It’s a cheap thing he probably got from Scrooge.

The one after that, a white cat with big round eyes of glass that stare right at him. The trick of perspective never shatters, even when met with stone and wood.

Another, a blue dog, and another, a red heart, and another, a square shape of soft fur, and another and another and another all fall into place away from him.

He reaches for a last one, yet all he feels are smooth covers. He scoffs, and proceeds to fumble for a last one. There, something fuzzy.

The fuzzy thing hisses at him. Ah, it’s Vanilla..

“And what exactly are _you_ doing here?”

Vanilla, whose waist fits in Repliku’s grip, crosses his arms. Repliku flicks his forehead with one unoccupied hand. “Shouldn’t you be skulking around Naminé’s place? Or did you think I never noticed the scratches on my pencils?”

Vanilla’s eyes narrow.

“I’ll put you down arleady. Now off with you.”

Despite the suggestion, Vanilla remains inside Repliku’s room.

“I said leave. Go chew on my homework if you want. I don’t care.”

Vanilla scampers off toward the desk, soon after disappearing on top of Repliku’s rolling chair. Maybe to chew on homework with teeth he doesn’t have.

What is up with that guy today? Normally, he’d just kick Vanitas off the bed under the pretense that his ‘fur would get everywhere.’ Today, Repliku appears content to curl up on his bed and stare at the wall for an indefinite amount of time.

Whatever he’s up to, Vanitas has better things to do. On the desk lies a pile of pencil shrapnel, which Repliku hasn’t noticed in his weird funk. This shrapnel pile consists of graphite pencils, ball point pens and felt tips all cleaved in half. _On accident, _Vanitas would claim.

He’s planning, you see. Since the smartphone he aquired can’t take notes outside of search engines and social media, a more traditional approach is required for his master plan.

A new pencil, one of the last survivors, balances on his paw, an acrobat on a tightrope. Now, the more difficult step. A complete lack of thumbs means no writing in one hand. No mouth means that option’s out, too. Don’t ask him how he can eat. It just works.

Slowly, carefully, his other hand/nub/front leg inches closer toward the swaying pencil. It touches, presses against the pencil, directs it toward the paper. Finally, he will outline his revenge master plan.

The graphite tip scratches against the paper. It draws a single line.

In a moment of triumph, Vanitas forgets his strenght, leading his sharp, _sharp_ claw hands to saw the last pencil within reach in two.

Why must Repliku buy the cheap plastic pens instead of something proper made of steel? Sure, Naminé might have the biggest pencil collection known to man, but if he snapped _those_ in half, she’d be sad _and_ disappointed. She actually needs those pens.

How he wants to scream in this moment. He used to bring heroes of light to their knees, terrorize _entire worlds_, but now he can’t even hold _one_ measly pen!

“Ssssscrew…. zis…. “

The stained blue paper mocks him. Like the laughter behind him.

“You finally speak for _this?_ Not sure what I expected from you but-” a snort interrupts Repliku’s speech, shortly after transitioning into a full laugh. According to the soft ‘thump’ Vanitas hears, the boy collapes on his mattress because of his giggling fit. Real mature.

To gain enough momentum to turn around the rolling chair, Vanitas pushes off the desk. He spins, already prepared to bark out _‘Who do you think you’re laughing at?’_ The rolling chair, as its name implies, not only spins but also rolls forward in the dircetion of the carpet.

It runs the carpet over full force, and before Vanitas’ plan takes form, he flies off the chair, gracefully smashing his snout against the orange carpet.

Repliku, the damned traitor, _howls_ at Vanitas’ misfortune. He clutches his stomach and shakes, wiping a tear from his eyes. And another. And another.

Humans don’t cry _that_ much from laughing, do they?

His roaring laugher slows, until he shakes not from lauging, but instead from heaving sobs.

Did… Vanitas do that? Did his elegant manoeuvre intimidate Repliku so much, he burst into tears? What does a creature of darkness do with crying children again?

Well, kill them, typically, buuut that would draw undue attention, and he’s not heartless. In either sense.

After lifting himself of the ground with his pride completely intact, thank you very much, he crawls on over to the crying boy.

“W..” come on, speak up. “Whuh..,” it’s like realizing he has vocal cords all over again. “Why?”

Repliku’s arm, previously haniging in front of his face, lowers to reveal red-rimmed eyes.

“I’m not crying because of you, don’t worry. I just had a rough day.”

“Why?” He can say that word now, might as well use it. Why should the guy who threatens him with a sword whenever he’s pissed cry, anyway?

“Is that your word of the day?”

Then, Vanitas feels himself lift up the floor. Repliku’s grabbed him by the scruff of his neck, which Vanitas vividly remembers doing to hurl Floods across the Keyblade Graveyard. He eyes the pillows on the opposite side of the room.

Instead of meeting the same fate, Vanitas plunks down on the bed. He peers upward at a head of silver hair, drops of water still trailing down.

“I’m crying because I punched someone.” His brief sobs have ceased, and lets his fist drop to the bed. It groans in response. “Stupid, right?”

Yeah, it kinda is. Vanitas never cried when he punched people. And he punched _a lot_ of people.

“Why?”

“Dunno. I wanted to, I guess.”

“Why?”

“Shut up, you parrot.”

“Why?”

“Because I’ll punch you if you say that one more time.”

Okay, that seems fair.

“I was-,” Repliku’s breath hitches again, “-I was angry? At him?”

More of a question than a statement. The disraught boy runs a hand through his hair and over his cheek. Whatever he feels right now, it smells dark to Vanitas. Dark, with a slight tinge to it. A tinge of light. Regret?

“Why?”

“Because I’m jealous of him, alright?!”

Vanitas flies across the room in sync with Repliku’s shout. He speeds toward the wall and closes his eyes, counting down until he braces for impact.

Perfectly aimed at the pile of pillows, with no harm to his being whatsoever.

He tumbles out, shakes his head. Repliku _did_ say he’d punch him if he said that again, and Repliku always keeps his promises. Vanitas isn’t sure he could take a straight punch right now. This outcome is favourable, really.

Repliku slumps again, hugging his knees to his chest.

“I’m sorry. I’m sorry, alright! You didn’t do anything. _He_ didn’t do anything, he was right. I’m just stupid and jealous. Because he’s not Data-Riku, he’s Himoyachi. And I’m still stuck as the Riku-Replica. ”

Ah, jealousy. Vanitas knew jealousy. How the light goody-two-shoes got to be _ Ventus_, _ the original,_ while Vanitas is the miserable dark castoff nobody wanted. How _ he _ got to keep everything they were and not even Vanitas’ _ face _ is his own-

Suffice to say, Vanitas is familiar, yes.

He crawls back over to the puddle of misery forming on the mattress. Gross, his sleeves are wet. Are there any tissues around?

He rumages around on the night table (a deed Repliku would usually kill him for) and scoops up a packet of tissues by cradling it with his front legs like the world’s least safe baby. Walking on two legs is no challenge before Vanitas’ might.

He contemplates as he walks, grand steps spanning about two centimeters at a time. Not because bigger steps would make him trip.

Yes, yes, dark jealousy with a light tinge of regret. What a weird emotion for him to have. Darkness made you strong, does it not? And if you feel light, you get this. Crying. Being defeated by the power of friendship because somehow those light brats one-uped you. And also exploited a moment of anger to get in that blindspot you didn’t cover-

Something doesn’t feel right about that connection… if darkness is strong, and anger is dark, how’d it make him fail? Maybe this whole friendship thing-

Vanitas trips over his thoughts and also his feet. The tissue pack bonks against Repliku’s skull, and Vanitas stumbles for the nth time this week, crashing right against Repliku’s side.

For one dreadful moment, the crying stops.

A green eye peeks out of its hiding place beneath raised arms. Its gaze trails from Vanitas at its side to tissue pack in front, and widens slighty.

“You got some tissues for me? ….Thanks.”

_Only because tears are gross,_ Vanitas wants to reply, yet all that comes out is “grrss.” He’ll have to practice his disgust, since apparently his vocal chords regenerated.

After Repliku loudly (and grossly) removes the snot from his person, he decides to put a big and luckily semi-clean hand right on Vanitas’ head, ruffling the coarse fur.

“You’re actually nice, aren’t you? Putting on this whole circus act for me.”

“Nnno!” He is _not_ nice! He is Vanitas, lord of the Unversed, plague of worlds, herald of the void, all by his own hand! He is not some cuddly wuddly do-gooder cheering people up! “Gross!”

“C’mere,” says grabby hands, immediately wrapping his grabby hands around Vanitas and nuzzling him. “You’re nice, aren’t you? A _real_ nice guy who thought I didn’t see him snap all my pens in half. You’ll pay for that, by the way. I’ll tell Namine about it and she’ll be mad at you~"

_And you’re a real _ bastard_, aren’t you,_ Vanitas thinks.

He scratches and claws at this disgusting creature. Though Repliku is less disgusting when not crying. But he’s still gross and now Vanitas’ sleek fur is gross and he’ll have to wash it and urghhhhh.

Somebody knocks on the door.

“Repliku? You feeling better? I made dinner!”

Repliku freezes right in the middle of his mockery. Oh no. He is holding Vanilla right in his hand and also the door is slowly opening.

Emergency.

“Don’t look at me!”

Okay, that should work. a) Riku respects his privacy so he won’t look, b) he won’t see Vanilla, and c) Repliku doesn’t want anyone with facial expressions looking at him right now to be honest.

Vanilla’s a bit of a special case, since he judges Repliku regardless of circumstance and Repliku quickly learned not to value his opinion. He does, however, value Riku’s opinion.

Also, Vanilla just melted into a solid puddle on his bed. Shadowy purple-blue goop with sentience receding underneath the blanket. This works.

Swiping up said blanket by the corner, Repliku wipes away the last of his tears before putting it back. Just in case.

Riku, being a polite young man, still enters the room but refuses to look at the left side, where Repliku’s bed stands.

“Listen, I talked with Sora about what happened today and-” A plate clanks against Repliku’s nightstand. Riku’s head remains looking comically far right, which renders the unharmed state of both the plate and everything on the table a miracle.

If he turned left, he might see the puddle of dark though, so small mercies.

“I don’t wanna hear it.” After his mood improved, too.

Riku sighs. “I just want to know why you hit him.”

“He was annoying me.”

“That’s not true and you know it.” Riku raises a hand in a chastising gesture, but sort of.. gestures to the wall. The wall must feel very ashamed of itself.

“Sora said Taivas told him you were angry at Himoyachi before he even spoke to you. And then he approached you because you made him nervous. I realize I should’ve told you he was moving here, but was his introduction that bad?”

“No,” Repliku says, while discreetly shoving Vanilla deeper inside the blanket. Then, he shifts to grab the plate of curry Riku made, and sniffs it. Smells bad and looks worse. Rice isn’t supposed to be that crisp. It tastes like ash on his tongue, not because of some underlying metaphor, but simply because it is _that_ burned.

A complete mess.

“Your cooking sucks.”

“Don’t dodge the topic, please.” Riku crosses his arms and frowns, vaguely disappointed and a little hurt.

“I just-,” his fingers curl tight around the duvet covers, “he just made me so angry!”

If one measures the angle at which Riku leans against the night table, one might meausre an exact 90° of stiff as a board. With his arms resting against the short table, Riku’s one line short of a full triangle.

“And why is that?” He could already guess, it’s practically written all over Repliku’s face. “Because he looks like you?”

“No!” Repliku wants to tear his hair out. “Because he looks like _you!_ But he also doesn’t! His hair’s purple and way long and his clothes are stupid!”

“And no one calls him Data-Riku either.”

“Exactly! He’s not some _third_ Riku but _I’m_ still just Repliku and I am _so damn jealous of him!”_

Repliku falters, realizing what he said just now, to_ Riku_ of all people. He glances at Vanilla beneath the blanket. Vanilla briefly materializes and nods, only to slink back into the shadows immediately after. He really admitted that, huh.

At last, Riku breaks his agreement in order to offer the plate of curry to Repliku again. “Try some more, won’t you?”

Repliku does. It still tastes bad. “I would’ve made this way better.”

“Something you can do that I can’t.” Huh? “We can both make curry, but it’ll taste different.”

What? “We can do the same stuff and it’ll be different?” A tentative question. Unsure, unknowing.

“I’ve dealt with jealousy too, before.” Repliku recalls that vividly, yes. “I thought it’s either Sora _or _me. But the Keyblade chose us both, in the end. No matter how many people do the same thing, wear the same clothes, look the same, they’ll always do it their _own_ way. That also applies to you.”

“But..”

A weight settles on Repliku’s shoulder. Riku smiles directly at him, even bend down to see eye-to-eye.

“Himoyachi being himself won’t make you any less yourself. You’re not him, and you’re not me. Your memories are your own, remember?”

That smile is so.. so… stupid. So knowing, spouting all this wild nonsense, and… and… the tears come leaking back out. Repliku collapses against Riku’s chest, whose arms wrap around his middle.

“I don’t want to be Repliku anymore...”

Riku’s shirt grows damp on his cheek. He feels Riku rubbing his back. He’s never been held like this before, only in the memories he never lived.

“You don’t have to be.”

It’s nice.

“Then who am I?”

“How about being my brother for now?”

A small laugh crawls out of Repliku’s throat. He pushes his brother away with minimal force, only for him to bounce back and ruffle his hair.

“Sure, you jerk.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello!! It'll just take a week, i thought, until i realized that I had THREE different drafts of warrying lenght and quality, and also three different exams coming up. I wrote 11 pages in my history exam today and my hand hurts.
> 
> On the other hand, there's been five confirmed corona cases in my area, so my school might get quarantined next week! There's one guy in quarantine already, and I also have a cold, which is very ominous. I hope it's a cold. It's probably a cold.
> 
> ANYWAYS, real life stuff out of the way, I hope I wrote Repliku good! I rlly wanted him to realize why he did what he did, and why he felt bad about it. Cuz he wasn't rlly angry at Himo, but more at himself. You know that feel when you almost end up choosing the same majors as your older sibling and have basically been repeating all their choices so far and then you have a minor existential crisis or you're closeted and you meet a person who's out and instead of feeling proud of them for their bravery or whatever you're kinda mad at them but really yourself because you wish you could be that brave? yeah. 
> 
> The working title for this was 'Bro We Are Bros' if that means anything. They are offical Bros now. It's what they deserve. Special shoutouts to my sister here, who doesn't read my fics but is awesome anyways. 
> 
> I need Vanitas to be both a bastard and accidentally helpful in a continously tsundere way for plot reasons. Really. He will have some time to think next chapter but I'm still saving up the big guns. If any character is getting the development hammer next it'll be Namine, since chapters have been a bit Repliku centric with this whole thing. Next one will be Vanitas centric though.
> 
> Before I write a small novel in the notes again (even tho i already have) here's an excerpt from my notes for the next chapter:
> 
> "What?" Vanitas asks. _What is she even doing?_
> 
> "Crime," Namine replies, not shifting focus from her work for even a second.
> 
> usual fare, point out if you see spelling mistakes, english is weird, have a nice week and wash your hands.


	8. i want to be your shadow in these streets

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Vanitas goes to school, scares a kid, hangs out with <strike>friends</strike> one of the brats, and listens to some theater.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Heyyo! Today's song is an english translation (by me) of a line from a german translation (by not me) of the originally japanese season 10 detective conan intro Winter Bells. It's a really nice song for a show about murder.
> 
> Anyways, to the two fans of Student A and Student B, I have given them names and a vague semblance of backstories. They are still only here to fulfill my need for outsider pov jokes. remember how the principal said repliku almost broke the nose of some guy named hibiki. he is here.  
also featuring the destiny islands film club, who are background ocs for a persona fic i havent actually published yet. I should though. They are here as a minor plot device maybe.  
Also also the ocs are kinda unimportant but know that i love all of them.  
please tell me if i forgot the accent on Naminé anywhere please
> 
> note: i am german and have no clue how other high school systems work. tbh i imagine namine and repliku to be 10th grade, which i belive is equivalent to first years in high school, being around 15/16 yrs old. Sora and Kairi would be in 12th grade, aka third years, with 17/18 yrs old. Riku would either be recently graduated or 13th grade, depends on if it's within the constaints of that one education reform that cut the grade number to 12 only to be increased to 13 immediatly because it sucks. I'm in like, one of the last grades to only have 12. 
> 
> why are the men fresh (all my knowledge of japanese high school comes from anime and persona)

Vanitas was bored. Like, seriously bored. _So_ bored, in fact, that he maybe a little bit misses having one of those two idiots around.

Right now, underneath Naminé’s bed and on his blanket nest, Vanitas stretches in a way one might if they yawn, which he doesn’t, since he doesn’t have a mouth.

He gets up, eventually, and observes the room. A high bookshhelf stretching almost to the ceiling full of books and art supplies, behind it a messy table with scattered sketches and forgotten homework.

The two brats are at this school, aren’t they?

What do people even do at school?

Today he will find out.

After a quick trip through an open window down the tree conveniently close to Naminé’s room, and trying to avoid the glare of the summer sun, Vanitas arrives at a building.

The building is smaller than the Land of Departure (which isn’t saying much) and bigger than Naminé’s house (which says a bit more) but overall a clincial white only made not so clinical through liberal use of red accents.

The sign before it proclaims ‘Destiny Islands High School’ with no particular name attached. After all, Destiny Islands has a single high school. There aren’t that many people on Destiny Islands.

Sneaking inside is an easy feat, even without use of shadow powers. Someone left a window open. He crawls through, scans the room for any sign of danger, and comes face to face with a boy.

He does not recognize this boy with wide green eyes and dark black hair, but he _does_ recognize what the boy is feeling. Surprise with a dash of fear. Faced with his mighty appearance, any average person would quake in their boots.

The book in his hands clatters to the floor, he lifts a shaking finger, pointing to Vanitas, and opens his mouth in a silent scream. Or a high pitched squeal.

Then, he turns tail and yells out, “Ai! The shadow creatures are real and there’s one in the library help meeeeee! Ai, do you hear me?!”

Vanitas takes the boy’s fading shout as his queue to leave the space he now recognizes as a library. Two small adjacent rooms seperated by an empty doorframe, decked with with rows of bookshelves packed as tight as possible.

With a passing glance at the fallen book titled _The lost history of the Dandelions, _he vows to return at a later time.

Hurried footsteps approach and Vanitas melts into shadow once more.

“There’s nothing here, Hibiki.”

“But I saw it, Ai, I swear!”

“Like the yellow-eyed things three years ago, right.”

“Yes! Those were real, too, and they destroyed the islands!”

“Then how are we alive, exactly.”

“I don’t know yet, but I bet Sora knows.”

“You bet Sora knows everything. Have you ever seen his grades?”

“Doesn’t matter now! The thing I saw, it was this spindly purple thing with bright red eyes radiating killing intent! It came in through the window and was the size of a cat!”

“It’s probably just some stray cat. You got scared by a cat?”

“It’s not a cat! I’ll find it and prove it to you!”

“Sure you will.”

A bell rings. Free period ends and a new lesson begins. The two students leave the library, one filled with renewed vigor, the other with indifference.

Hurrying through the hallways, Vanitas sees all kinds of students, yet the two he’s searching for remain out of sight. Why’d he never steal a timetable? It’s not like he can _ask_ where they are.

He scampers over feet and schoolbags. If one or two or three people trip in his wake, that’s totally unrelated. For four more minutes, he sees no heads with silver or pale blond hair, only sun-bleached yellows, browns, and blacks.

The bell rings again. The students disappear through doors leading to who-knows-where (classrooms, probably.)

Urgh. Doesn’t seem like he’ll find them just wandering about the building like this. So instead, Vanitas hushes back outside. Or tries to.

The door is big. And also heavy. Curse you, fire safety. He pushes against it with all his might, he pours in every bit of strenght he has. All of his focus, all of his might, versus one safety door.

It is crystal clear who will emerge victorious.

The door, of course.

This door, you see, is thick and also made of metal instead of wood. Destiny Islands may be small, but that just means all those responsible for safety have less ground to cover.

Many children have stuggled and failed to open this door.

He sighs, or rather, exhales forcefully and with much frustration. Exhausted, he leans against the door. So exhausted, he does not notice approaching footsteps.

“Get on with it, people!” shouts a feminine voice. “We’re wrapping this thing up today!”

Once again these past weeks, Vanitas falls to the floor when the girl in charge opens the door without any strain to be seen.

_Destiny Islands Film Club,_ reads the bag of a girl struggling under equipment Vanitas has no brains to recognize. Like very futuristic cameras, or microphones.

Whatever a film club may be, they _did_ open the door. Vanitas inhales the first taste of fresh air he has had in the past fifteen minutes.

Sand crunches beneath his feet. Gravel is sparse, and since there’s so much sand around, it only makes sense to use it everywhere.

The four Film Club kids settle down near a table, one of them already _on top_ of the table and yelling into a paper megaphone, but they don’t interest Vanitas.

Hidden next to a palm tree sits Naminé on a different bench.

The sun overhead beams down on her soft yellow dress. Her skin has more color than in memories accompanying Sora unseen through an endless white castle.

He prefers it when she looks like that.

The scratch of her pen hits his hearing together with the rustle of the nearby trees. Once Naminé notices his approach, it stops.

“Did you follow me to school today?” she asks, though his presence provides an answer already.

He climbs up the bench and sits down next to her. She pats his head. He neither flinches nor leans into the touch.

“My literature teacher’s sick, so I’m hanging out here, enjoying the sun. Doing crime.”

What? “What?”

“I’m doing crime, technically. With this!” She holds out her marker pen. It smells terrible. “The tables all look so boring, and isn’t it much prettier like this? Everyone writes down their Heartstagram handles on here, anyways.”

Now that she mentions it, the table boasts a vast collection of doodles in marker, depicting strange creatures. Wait  wait  _wait._ He recognizes these.

He places a paw on top of the nearest doodle. “What?”

“Oh, these? I don’t know what they are. I’ve been seeing them in my dreams so often, they simply come to mind whenever I draw.”

The doodles, they’re big and small and all shapes and sizes but each and every single one bears the same sigil, be it on the front, the back, or anywhere else.

These are pictures of the Unversed.

While Vanitas is trapped in a world of his own, Naminé continues to speak. “I don’t really care if someone, mainly Repliku, let’s be honest, says it’s vandalism. Everyone draws on these tables. Nobody cares.” She chuckles.

“So, what do you think? Do you like them?”

Vanitas is, uhm, short-circuting more than an actual computer, so. In order to appease Naminé, who stares at him looking all happy and hopeful and all that junk, he forces the word “Good” to come out of his somewhere. He still doesn’t have a mouth. Could be telepathy. He’s not sure.

Naminé claps once. “I’m glad. They’re your friends, right? I’ve seen some little guys just like you in my dreams. I wonder whose memories they’re from.”

She plops her chin down on the table, arms stretched out on it, and breathes out. “Then there’s the boy I see with them.”

Vanitas freezes where he stands. _The boy?_

“I dream of him alone in this big desert. He’s always alone, except for creatures like you. I don’t think he likes you, though. He runs away until he can’t, and then he strikes them down with his keyblade. Every single time the dream ends before I can see his face.”

After her short story, Naminé sits back up again. Yet Vanitas’ insides twist and coil.

_No no nonono._

She can’t know. Not yet. Not yet. She’d throw him out right now instead of later. He doesn’t want to run again just yet.

“Vanilla? Are you alright?”

Somebody just asked if he is alright.

How novel.

How does one respond to that?

“No.”

He wants to melt into a puddle at that moment, but that would mean falling off the bench. So he stays solid.

“That’s fine, too. I won’t ask you to tell me what’s wrong, I know how it is.”

And then, she scratches his chin. Maybe because Vanitas is still reeling over the fact that _oh yeah, Namin__é__ has memory powers_, or because some part hidden inside him finally free to surface without crawling out of his shadow, he leans into it.

They sit like that, for some time, while the distant yells of novice actors echo across the schoolyard.

One of the girls, unsure which: “I have found you at last, dear brother!”

A boy, without emotion in his voice: “As if you shall ever be my sister. For all you have done, I will never recognize you as such,”

The girl, smirking: “You cannot deny that we are of the same blood, no matter how much you long to.”

The boy, still without feeling: “Blood does not a family make. I have chosen the companions by my side. They have been my family where you tried to destroy it.”

The boy, striking a heroic pose: “Together we shall defeat you, foul witch.. demon.. something.… Script. I forgot my script.”

The girl with the paper megaphone: “Honestly, you can’t keep doing this. Try to sympathize with your character...”

_Is that what he was like to Ventus? Somebody connected, yet renounced? Is that what Repliku did, choose who his family is? If Vanitas were to face Ventus again, would he still chose his other half, or instead-_

“I wonder what play they’re putting on,” says Naminé. “Well, I’ll see it eventually. We should get you out of sight before break starts.”

She looks left, then right, then back at Vanitas. Her smile does not reassure him about whatever idea she might’ve come up with.

He has the distinct feeling that coming to school was a mistake.

Namine lets the lightbulb out of the bag and says, “You could hide in my bag!”

He hisses at her. “No!”

No more indignity for his cat-shaped self. What is he, a plushie?

“Come on, do you want to see what lessons are like? I can take you with me, and you can hide beneath my desk and listen in, it’ll be fun!”

Sweet Naminé could be a bit of a doormat if you scared her enough, but once she got an idea inside her head, it doesn’t matter if you’re Kingdom Hearts itself. She will realize her ideas, and there is nothing that will stop her.

There is also her smile and cheerful enthusiasm, which surely plays no part in Vanitas’ decision making.

_Let’s get this over with_

Vanitas sighs, and gets in the bag.

The bell rings.

“It’s time for break!”

Wait, wait, break?? What’s he in the bag for then??

“I’m going to go see how Repliku’s apology is doing. He said he’d do it during the first break, I’ve got to make sure he actually does it. You know how he is with feelings.”

Spying on his newest rival, safely secured in a concealed location… Yeah, that sounds alright. Even if all those loose pencils are stabbing him, his curiosity over how the brat will take yesterday’s revelations into account.. Vanitas wants to see it.

<strike>He wants to see the two people he chose change and grow.</strike>

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *Vanitas voice* fellow associate
> 
> hello! everyone's going thru some times right now, huh. when i said i wanted my school to shut down this is not exactly what i meant. My school DID get shut down though but now I'm swamped with homework. Teachers DNI. my mom's flower shop got shut down tho so :( all those poor flowers.... at least now my room smells really good.
> 
> oh yea Student A and Student B are Hibiki and Ai now. They are stupid and I love them. The names have no real significance other than that I know they are actual real people names and hibiki totally isnt the canon name of a game i've been obsessed with recently. devil survivor 2 who?
> 
> Friendly reminder that Repliku's name is still up in the air! We've got Anton in the lead with a suggestion + one vote, followed by Naoyuki, and now joined by Neo, suggested by Ima+Nonyme!! i love all of these....  
I can put it off by *looks at nonexistant watch* like three or four chapters. Maybe five if i everything spirals out of control again. this chapter and the next were supposed to be a single one but i dont want to have like.. 4k always. do yall like longer of more frequent updates btw?
> 
> also also the order of what you want to see with struggle tournament ft. the twilight trio, art contest ft. terra or search for a birthday gift ft. riku and sora will also be up till then!
> 
> btw i am totally not a dirty vandal who draws pokemon on those tables everyone scribbles on. i would never break the law.
> 
> stay safe and wash your hands! Byebye!
> 
> next time: repliku apologizes like a normal person, and i get to make the note 'persona 5 starring Vanitas as Morgana and Hibiki as green pencil case boy' come true


	9. why must we talk? why can we not simply hit each other with magic swords

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> New friendships get forged and Vanitas terrorizes an innocent student.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hello everyone dialogue hard. You can tell which segment i had most fun with and I'm kinda sorry for that. I do not know how to end conversations and that _absolutely_ translates into my writing.
> 
> Also my ocs appear again because i love them and i wanted to make a specific joke ever since i started this fic so I'm living my dreams
> 
> also also i hope you guys like headcanon lore. the amazing xSelwynwardx got some incredible world building, you all should check out the [thread](https://archiveofourown.org/comments/291528430) for some neato hcs
> 
> (you guys sure like the name neo a lot huh. neat.)
> 
> this chapter took a bit because i reread most of this fic and found so many spelling errors i had to go hide myself in shame. it's like fremdscham but the person i'm ashamed for is past me. so like, regular shame. most of them have been fixed but please do tell if you see any.
> 
> (also oh my god i love you guys. 1k hits. 100+ kudos. almost 100 comments (though half of those are probs my replies to you asfdvc) but like. I love y'all. I did not expect this much support and nothing makes me happier than see a comment pop up it's ridiculous. All of you are amazing and i'd die for you.)
> 
> finally, since a concern arose with me mentioning persona, if a teacher tried anything they would be tossed into the ocean. supportive good teachers _only_ in this house.

Repliku stands in front of the digitally agreed upon meeting spot, some random corner no one looks twice at. He shifts his weight from foot to foot. This will be harder than a sword fight. Oh boy.

And the guy of the hour arrives, once again clad in a long-sleeved shirt. By his side and luckily not glaring at Repliku anymore is the walking traffic-light. He’s learned a thing or two about making assumptions based on appearances, but praying that the two are as forgiving as their counterparts should be fair game. He hopes.

“Hello,” says Himoyachi. He waves at Repliku, and then stands still on the spot, looking at Repliku. Likely expecting him to say, well, anything.

“Hi,” adds Taivas, smiling with very many teeth.

Why couldn’t they have a magic swordfight instead. Why must people _talk_ about their feelings. Where is Naminé, she said she’d be moral support.

Light footsteps hit his ears and Repliku praises everything good in the world. Thank light itself, Naminé is here.

She struts up next to him despite her bag swinging back and forth _much_ more violently than usual. She holds his hand and smiles at him in a reassuring way and also her bag is making fake retching noises. Ah. Vanilla is here. To witness whatever’s about to happen, no doubt.

After another round of greetings for the new arrivals, Taivas asks, “Is your bag alright?”

“He’s fine,” Naminé replies, shrugging off awkward silence like an unwanted coat. An unwanted coat everyone else picks up from the floor, because Taivas spends a rather long time contemplating the pronoun ‘he’ used for a bag. He does not arrive at a conclusion.

Meanwhile, Himoyachi fiddles with his sleeves, Repliku continues his idle animation, and Naminé is the only one not stuck in her own head. With the exception of Vanilla, who pokes out of the bag briefly, only to notice Taivas’ unblinking stare. He resigns himself to mere eavesdropping, not like there is anything to see _or_ hear at the moment.

Naminé’s smile strains as she is feeling increasingly awkward. Whenever a situation grows awkward enough, Namine’s hesitance will be overridden by some emergency switch out of sheer self-preservation, otherwise everyone may explode. It’s a very useful workaround when deciding what to order for dinner. “Come on, you can do it,” she says finally, because they really only have fifteen minutes for this conversation and she feels like they wasted at least five. (It has been thirty _long_ seconds.)

_You can do it… _ Repliku cannot help but echo in his mind. Because, yeah, he _can_ do this! He’s Repliku, he can do _anything! _So he gathers his large amounts of courage, takes a deep bow and belts out “I’m sorry I punched you for no reason!”

Himoyachi _almost_ flinches, since he did not expect for anything to happen in their little limbo, least of all so soon and so loudly. Keyword being _almost. _He is a polite lad and did not.

“I was very angry that day for personal reasons, but not at you, and like you said, you’re not Riku and I’m not either, so he and I talked things out and that topic’s done now. I took a long time to reconsider what I did and realized I was in the wrong. I took unjustified anger out on you even though you did nothing to deserve it and for that I am sorry.”

Naminé nods to back his statement. “He even practiced apologizing yesterday. We made flashcards.”

“Well, I’m glad to hear it. Since my cheek’s healed anyways, I’ll forgive you this time. Don’t let it happen again.” Himoyachi doesn’t turn his nose up at the apology, which is one weight off Repliku’s chest. It’s better than what he hoped for, really. Not even Taivas looks to be holding a grudge because Repliku hurt his friend. Though it’s a bit weird that he’s staring at Naminé’s bag like that.

“I won’t.” He swears it. No innocent will be harmed by his hand again.

“That’s good,” Himoyachi says, “because we couldn’t be friends otherwise.”

“You want to be friends? With me?”

“Sure.” He rifles through his bag and holds out his phone. “Want to trade numbers? We can do something together to make up.”

Repliku puts in his number. He can barely belive it. Maybe because he just ended a feud without magic swords involved_ somehow._

Finally, Taivas snaps out of whatever thoughts held him hostage. “Same goes for me! I’ll even say sorry for almost Thunder-ing you.” Taivas makes some grand gesture, and then hugs Repliku. It’s both sincere and too tight for comfort.

During the hug, Taivas calls out “Group hug!” and swoops Himoyachi up. Now Repliku’s ribs are really feeling it. They might be creaking.

Naminé, meanwhile, fiddles with something inside her bag a short distance away. “What’re you doing, silly? You too! Come here!”

And just like that she joins the impromptu cuddle pile. Everyone gets a good old laugh, an excessive amount of hair gets ruffled. Even Vanilla, hanging out in Naminé’s bag. She’s even careful not to crush his fragile form!

After a while, they disperse into seperate people again.

“We’ll be in touch sometime, show you around some of our spots! Don’t forget we’re offially friends now!” Taivas waves a last time, and disappears around the corner with Himoyachi in tow, off to his next lesson.

Naminé and Repliku linger a little longer, even as the first bell rings.

“We just made some friends!” Naminé says, obviously delighted.

“We sure did,” Repliku replies. “Somehow.”

History lessons are _boring_. Destiny Islands doesn’t even _have _that much history, Hibiki thinks. Just that stuff about the first settlers fleeing some war. He’d read about that already.

“_Though the original hierachy of the Dandelions remains unknown, from this brief letter to a friend we can glean that they were seperated into five __factions__…,”_ the teacher drones on and on.

He leans backward in his seat. Why did that matter anyways? Whoever found the islands did so because whatever group they came from _sucked._ That one book he finished today shed _way_ more light on that. Something about betrayal and distrust which made some people leave across the ocean, and tada! They settled here. That’s it.

With nothing else better to do, his gaze drifts across the classroom. Those two new kids light up over every new fact, delighted to learn everything. That’d be over in a week. Or maybe they’re actually studious. Ignoring the hair, they look _identical_ to Sora and Riku though. Cousins, yeah right. Hibiki won’t press it now, despite that. He’s been in trouble enough.

Speaking of trouble, Repliku stares out the window, as he usually does, with his chin resting on his hand. The other mysterious sibling of local celebrities, Naminé, doodles in her sketchbook, same as usual.

Ai next to him has her face buried in the crook of her arm. She’s not even pretending to be awake. Typical. She’ll ask for his notes later, and he’ll score some pastries from her part-time job in return. Having a friend working at a bakery is awesome, even if she only gets to take the stale pastries home.

Back to looking anywhere but the blackboard, he spots something red on the lattice underneath Naminé’s desk. Or rather, something red spots_ him._

The_ thing_ from the library winks at him, oh geez. Naminé’s in danger. First though, “Hey, Ai, wake up. The thing’s back.”

She rises like the dead. Might as well be nocturnal, that girl, and mumbles “The cat?”

“’s not a cat, screw off. Look, underneath Naminé’s desk.”

Just as Ai finally musters enough energy to turn her head around, the thing closes its ruby-red eyes, therefore rendering it practically invisible.

“I don’t see anything. Maybe you should get more sleep.” Oh, like _she’s_ one to talk. “I’m gonna get more shut-eye.” And she does, head dropping right back to her desk. For a moment, Hibiki considers snitching, a propped up book isn’t exactly inconspicuous cover, but then he won’t get any pastries in exchange for notes. He_ knows_ she’s got work today, and they’ve got those scones on Wednesday...

Back to the thing, it’s back. And winking at him again. It knows what it’s doing and he hates it. Shadow creatures are real, this on hates him, specifically. Speaking of, this has to do with Sora’s family for sure. One more mystery to the pile, like where that Ventus guy disappears to after he visits.

“Ven’s favourites are the choco scones, by the way,” says Ai, adding only to the conversation whenever it furthers his misery.

“You’re the only one making your life miserable.” And he said all that out loud. Great.

The thing, creature,_ whatever’s_ eyes narrow at the name. This weird creature under Naminé’s desk also hates Ventus specifically, wherever he may be. Doesn’t seem like it’ll eat anyone’s face at the moment, so hopefully it’s safe. If anyone’s dead tomorrow, he’ll know why.

More importantly, “You’re on nickname basis with that guy? How’d you even meet?”

She twirls her hair around her finger. Hibiki has known her long enough to know this is the universal signal that she thinks someone’s being stupid. “Did you seriously forget I work for Sora’s mom. How’d you think I know so much about that family?”

“I kinda assumed you’re omnipotent.” Out of the corner of his eye, the creature waves at him. Whenever Ai deigns to glance at it, it disappears. Life is nothing but suffering.

“Listen, you can’t have met Ventus and _not_ be on nickname basis with him. I swear his name’s not Ventus it’s ‘I’m Ventus! Call me Ven!’” She pitches up her voice as she speaks, and the creature delights at her mockery. There is a backstory here, among the five million others no one ever tells him.

“Okay, whatever. That’s not the weirdest thing. Do you know where he keeps vanishing off to?”

“If you wanna stalk him go do it yourself.”

_Stalk?_ Oh, he would never, it’s just the islands aren’t that big and there really aren’t other settlements, so obviously Hibiki is just concerned-

“Yeah, yeah. Stop sputtering. He’s not homeless at any rate.”

“What about his brother then?” That other blonde one, Ro- something, visited far more often. And his skateboard is really cool.

“Didn’t I tell you he’s dead or something?”

“Roxas’s dead?”

“Roxas? No way. Ven and Roxas aren’t siblings, I said that already.”

“I don’t believe you.” They’re _identical_.

“I dunno how’d he be twins with someone our age. Ven’s twenty-seven.”

“I’m sorry, Ven’s _what?!”_

Somebody clears their throat. A second to late, Hibiki realizes that someone is the teacher.

“Hibiki, Ai, would you like to share with the class?”

“No, sir, sorry.”

“Good, now pay attention. This is important history! _Many have theorized on the true nature of Lux, but the most widely accepted theory came from a man named…._”

And the rest of the class passes without incident, except for that infuriating dark face that’ll likely taunt him in his dreams.

Naminé needs to go to the library. She wants more info on a cretain period of art history, and the library has plenty of resources. Naminé goes to the library and stubs her toe on a book.

“Ouch,” she cries. Leaving a book on the floor is a douchy move. That poor book’s spine must be all cracked by now.

Lifting the book up, Vanilla pokes his head out of the bag. “Want,” he says.

“Curious?” Did he not get enough eavesdropping on class?

“Yes.” Something about the title strikes a cord with him. It should by all means be a regular history book, and yet…

“I’ll borrow it for you, then. Just remember to finish on time, alright?” Naminé says. If her little friend wants to educate himself, Naminé won’t stop him. Maybe he could help her during exams, if she teaches him to whisper. “I won’t pay your overdue fees.”

He’s got a feeling she won’t need to.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hewwo everyone hope you enjoyed this chapter bcuz i don't rlly feel that confident about it but i needed all the kids to be friends _somehow_ so i'm justifying it by saying the data boys intented to forgive repliku from the start and why the hell not make a sudden group hug right? It still feels rlly abrupt to me but idk how to make it better
> 
> "Ven's twenty-seven" is the joke i _always_ wanted to make using hibiki and ai (who have no further planned appearances from now on but might sneak in later chapters here or there). 
> 
> have some of my hcs for destiny island's history! The gist got explained but basically: some dandelions said 'hey screw this actually' after they all got out the datascape at some point and found out about all the intrigue going on with the foretellers and the murder mystery n stuff, so they screwed off across the ocean and founded destiny islands. Meaning dandelion stuff is distant history/almost mythology for citizens. They can only theorize details with out of context letters n diaries they found (like what is lux? how did unions work? what the hell did the dandelions even escape?) 
> 
> if you guessed xehanort was obsessed with these myths as a kid you would be correct. He absolutely was. Multiple worlds would also be regarded as a typical myth from these findings, less regarded as fact, more as fairytale.
> 
> next time: another bonus chapter (I might do these every four chapters they're fun) to answer one burning question: how's ven doing?
> 
> (i wrote a coherent outline for the next two or so chapters and i am very proud of myself)
> 
> (also how i set the timeline means the existence known as vanitas is exactly thirteen years old. yes i am a genius)


	10. BONUS: i love all of my idiot children

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ventus attempts contact to no avail and somewhere else a groupchat is formed

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hello another bonus chapter! I've decided to do them every regular 4 chapters cuz they're fun. Also i have gained new respect for people who do chatfics cuz it is a PAIN to add all the names in.
> 
> The person talking to van in the first part is ventus, if it wasn't obvious enough.

**Lion-of-the-WInd** has now entered a private chat with **UnversedInEmotion**!

Vanitas

WHos that

Youre Vanitas

no

You litrally have Unversed in your name

its a normal word

is it?

How are you alive?

well if i were this vanitas guy id be dead apparantly

im sure he was a GREAT guy though

whoever he is

Vanitas this isn‘t funny.

but im not vanitas

im vanilla

Are you kidding me

maybe

i live under your bed and ill eat all your cereal

I‘ll tell Aqua about this.

Who knows what you‘re planning

aqua? you mean that diamondduster chick

YOU KNOW HER

yea i know her cuz we fought on heartstagram

the platform youre using right now?

no relation otherwise

You said, and I quote,

“at age 12 I was born without a face”

what of it

Who does that??

its called shitposting get with it old man

youre bullying a 13 yr old

…

mom said to block people who r mean to me

I‘m not bullying you though?

but you keep saying im vanitas

when this vanitas is Very Dead

and im not

That’s because everything points to you being Vanitas!

Who else are you?!

thats none of your business old man

youre prolly an old man and this is a SCHEME

get bent creepy old man

**Lion-of-the-WInd **has been blocked by **UnversedInEmotion**! You can no longer interact with their posts or send them private messages!

Oh come on

**theres_a_new_land **has created a groupchat with **MysteriousYam**, **Novum**, and **angels_in_flight**!

**theres_a_new_land **has named the groupchat _fwiends_

**Novum****:** Hello?

**theres_a_new_land:** Hi this is Taivas!!

**theres_a_new_land:** Since we’re all friends now we gotta have a groupchat!!

**angels_in_flight**: We gotta.

**MysteriousYam:** May I add someone else then?

**theres_a_new_land:** ofc!!

**Novum:** is it who I think it is

**MysteriousYam:** yes

**MysteriousYam **has added **UnversedInEmotion** to the group _fwiends_!

**MysteriousYam** has changed **UnversedInEmotion**’s nickname to **vanilla**!

**theres_a_new_land:** Good thinking we all need nicknames!!

**theres_a_new_land** has changed **angels_in_flight**’s nickname to **database-for-brains**!

**database-for-brains** has changed **theres_a_new_land**’s nickname to **adorkable**!

**a****dorkable:** aw

**vanilla:** gross

**vanilla:** who r these losers

**MysteriousYam:** Our new friends!

**v****anilla:** the one rep punched

**vanilla:** also

**vanilla** has changed **Novum**’s nickname to **stabby**!

**Stabby:** I apologized!

**d****atabase-for-brains:** yes and we forgive him

**vanilla:** cool

**vanilla:** anyway what is this

**vanilla:** and who r u people

** vanilla: ** but first

** vanilla ** has changed ** MysteriousYam**’s nickname to ** paint water **

**database-for-brains:** This is a groupchat.

**vanilla:** like a chat but big

**database-for-brains:** yes.

**paint water:** I’ll tell you more if you want

** paint water: **what is this nickname

** vanilla: **drink paint water

** paint water: **but I don’t?

** vanilla: ** you want to sometimes

** paint water: **no comment

**database-for-brains:** I’m Himoyachi

**adorkable:** And I’m Taivas!

**a****dorkable:** And who are you?

**v****anilla:** vanilla apparently

**database-for-brains:** apparently

**stabby:** He’s not telling us so he must suffer. We call him Vanilla.

**paint water:** because he tried to eat the vanilla sugar when we made ice cream.

**v****anilla:** u did Not have to tell em that

**stabby:** Like the fact you keep shredding my pencils

**stabby:** Why by the way

**vanilla:** u can just. thow me out if it bothers u so much

**paint water:** no!! pencils are less important than friends.

**a****dorkable:** you guys live together?

**s****tabby:** He kinda bounces between our places

**stabby:** Don’t ask

**adorkable:** Maybe we could meet sometime!!

**vanilla:** no

**stabby:** He’s shy and hates human contact

**database-for-brains:** none of us are human, technically.

**paint water:** he’s not human either and he feels bad about it.

**vanilla:** I DO NOT

**stabby:** Wouldnt you like to hold those pencils, shadow boy

**vanilla:** ILL SHRED YOUR HOMEWORK

**stabby:** I can see you type with grandpa speed

**vanilla:** NOT ALL OF US HAVE FINGERS DIPSHIT

**database-for-brains:** auto-correct can fill in words for you

**database-for-brains:** you type a few letters and suggestions appear

**adorkable:** You guys get along well!!

**paint water:** it’s nice to hear him speak when he usually can’t.

**paint water:** we ca get to know him better like this

**vanilla:** u guys wanna. learn about me.

**paint water:** we won’t press you for details but yes!

**s****tabby:** Actually no he started speaking just to laugh at me

**paint water:** you’re happy he’s learning though

**stabby:** Perhaps

**vanilla:** sap

**stabby:** Why do I even bother

**vanilla:** cuz u LIKE me

**vanilla:** & I help with ur MATH HOMEWORK

**stabby:** How can you do numbers that fast

**vanilla:** I dunno

**vanilla:** experience

**adorkable:** I have a calculator in my brain!!

**paint water:** good for you?

**d****atabase-for-brains:** he’s excited to talk, give him some time

**adorkable:** wait wait wait

**paint water:** what is it?

**a****dorkable:** I used to be like. digital.

**a****dorkable:** And that‘s still. My brain n stuff

**adorkable:** could i

**adorkable:** Could i go inside computers like some cyber ghost??

**adorkable:** WITH MY MIND??

**vanilla:** go for it kid!

**d****atabase-for-brains:** dont encourage this

**database-for-brains:** he just fainted. Hello??

**database-for-brains:** hes not waking up

**database-for-brains:** what did he even do?

**paint water:** oh no

**stabby:** Thats bad

**adorkable**: No I‘m here!!

**database-for-brains:** You Are Still Unconcious

**adorkable:** No I‘m not!!

**adorkable:** My concious is just here

**stabby:** In the groupchat

**adorkable:** Yea!!

**vanilla:** amazing.

**v****anilla:** u should change peoples passwords

**vanilla:** itd be funny

**stabby:** It would

**paint water:** you too?

**d****atabase-for-brains:** my bg just changed from dark mode to light mode?

**v****anilla:** now THATS evil

**database-for-brains:** he woke up

**adorkable:** I‘m back!!

**adorkable:** My brain has wifi

**adorkable:** being an android is the best thing ever

**adorkable:** idk how my insides work

**adorkable:** but i can computer

**stabby:** A fair price to pay

**adorkable:** INDEED

**adorkable:** ANYWAY

**adorkable:** i actually made this chat for a reason!!

**database-for-brains:** oh right i forgot

**adorkable:** We should all meet up sometime!!

**adorkable:** Vanilla excluded if he doesn‘t want to

**vanilla:** hmmmm

**paint water:** that sounds nice.

**database-for-brains:** we could go shopping together

**database-for-brains:** since repliku is in his rebel phase

**stabby:** How‘d you know

**database-for-brains:** experience

**database-for-brains: **we‘re cousins now it‘s family tradition

**stabby:** I

**stabby:** I guess it is

**adorkable:** I know this really cool mall

**adorkable:** A friend showed me and they have SO much stuff

**database-for-brains:** they have cute accesoires

**paint water:** cute you say?

**database-for-brains:** very cute

**paint water:** @**stabby**, what do you think?

**s****tabby:** …

**stabby:** Do they have cool stuff

**adorkable:** Yea!!

**stabby:** Alright

**adorkable:** YEA!!

**vanilla:** Ill be around

**database-for-brains:** needlessly ominous

**vanilla:** what else

**database-for-brains:** then next saturday, I‘ll text you world and adress?

**s****tabby:** I‘ll be there

**paint water:** i know you want a leather jacket.

**s****tabby:** HEY

**vanilla:** salty cuz she called you out

**stabby**: Who‘s even teaching you these words?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hello yall i dont have that much to say for this one except that it was a blast to write. i love having all these stupid kids interact. 
> 
> and also i do have an outline for the next chapter but also again dont expect anything cuz school's prolly gonna start in my area again on monday and im still not done with my online learning stuff help
> 
> you might think this fic is rated T for heavier topics I'll bring up much later down the road, but it was actually so Vanitas could say dipshit
> 
> that is all for today, don't forget that you can still vote on names if you haven't already, bye bye~
> 
> Next time on Two Introverts and a really weird Cat: Repliku goes to hot topic. Namine goes to Claire's. Vanitas hangs out at public restrooms and has way too much fun with it. Also I get to introduce the best idea i have ever had: ribbons.


	11. Who's gonna be smilling? Me, of course

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Everyone goes shopping with the exception of Vanitas. Vanitas, with the exception of everyone, finds some fun in his own way.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> HELLO YES, i wanted to get this chapter done last week cuz I rlly only needed to add narration to ONE scene, but then my sister crashed our shared laptop =(
> 
> She managed to rename portage. _Portage_, the thing where all your installed applications are, thereby screwing up any and all dependancies. It took... a couple of days to iron that out. So without further delay, have a chapter below 2k for once good lord. This mini arc has a second part and i fear it will be. much longer than this.
> 
> Today's song is Wait and See from Persona Q2, because hot damn i love lotus juice

The time: somewhen on a Saturday afternoon. The place: a mall in San Fransokyo. The people: dear light so many.

This is the setting Naminé and Repliku find themselves in, after agreeing to meet up with their newest friends.

Said newest friends appear out of the ether called crowds as Naminé almost jumps a meter high into the air.

“Hi, guys!” says the absolute rascal.

“Hello,” adds the complete menace.

Naminé reaches into her bag to pet the ball of coarse fluff inside. She remembers that there is no meteor about to strike her dead on the spot. Probably.

“So, where are we going?” says Repliku, the reason they are all gathered here today. He _will_ get cool clothing by the end of this. It’s time to reinvent her best friend’s style and not to worry about impending doom via implosion. 

Taivas, in a manner she has quickly grown to expect, swings his arms outwards and bellows, “Anywhere you want! Wherever looks coolest!” Leaning away barely an inch to dodge, it seems Himoyachi also anticipated Taivas’ gesture. Naminé’s hair wooshes in the conjured wind.

Vanilla’s fur has a very nice texture. It’s good he’s here. Even if he probably just wants blackmail. She might’ve told him  _You can come if you behave_ , but she doubts he’ll listen. “That’s right, we’re here for you, so you pick first!”

Repliku pretends to contemplate for a grand total of five seconds before pointing at the store he obviously wanted to go to the entire time. Naminé doesn’t call him out on it just yet. Instead, she says, “Let’s go, then.”

Unknown to everyone currently gathered and happily chatting, a certain someone snuck inside Naminé‘s bag some time ago. Well, unknown to everyone except Naminé, since she is the one who offered. She would notice if her almost empty bag suddenly weighed one shadow creature more, even if he‘s barely heavier than a couple of grapes. Shadows do not have a lot of mass.

Anyway, _most_ people don‘t know he‘s here, and Vanitas will use that. _Yo__u can come if you behave,_ yeah, as if.

The two idiots he came with have let their guards down, time to show them the error of their ways. And cause havoc. Because it‘s fun. People haven‘t screamed in fear at Vanitas in so long, he‘s starting to miss it. Or maybe it‘s respect.

Somewhere during his extended monologue, the group of four plus one already walked inside a store, and Naminé’s bag landed on the floor of a changing room.

H e crawls out of the shoulder bag. Even if he would like to explore this strange store known as  Spicy Theme , there is chaos to be wrought! 

The doors, his sworn enemy, magically open. Someone of his cultural background (a big desert) cannot distinguish advanced technology (motion sensors) from magic, so he prides himself on his intimidating aura. Surely, the doors have heard of his crushing victory against Destiny Island’s school doors. Or perhaps the people of this world are wizards and their doors are enchanted? Wouldn’t be the first time.

H e walks out into the busy mall, scanning the main hub for the perfect place to conduct his games. After a bit of walking between people’s feet (and tripping one or two unsuspecting shoppers), he hits the jackpot.

A dark, barely lit hallway in the middle of the bright building. And at the end, the most evil place of all: public restrooms.

Meanwhile, back with the people Vanitas just left to cause problems on purpose, deliberation is happening. Together they agreed to help find Repliku a new aesthetic that does not scream fisherboy hand-me-downs, and this store is first on the list.

When Repliku picked it, Taivas squealed in approval, saying it’s where he got his horrible neon clothing from.

Naminé asks Repliku, this time in person instead of text, “You just want a leather jacket, don’t you.”

Yes. The answer is yes. Repliku greatly admires the style of clothing that looks like somebody got run over by a bulldozer made of sawblades. “They’re cool,” he cooly says, taking one such jacket of the rack.

When he tries it on and poses cooly in the mirror, his friends clap. Naminé hollers in approval. The store clerk glares at them. Repliku, in his best attempt not to blush, can’t supress a grin at his new look.

Just look at him! Riku wouldn’t be caught dead wearing any of this. Like ripped tanktops with weird patterns. Or leather jackets. Or ripped shorts.

“You know,” says Himoyachi, staring at the pile of clothing behind him, “it’s cheaper if we buy whole clothing and rip it ourselves.”

“Why would it be cheaper to buy whole clothes than ripped ones?” Coolness factor, maybe?

“Capitalism.”

“What’s capitalism?”

Nobody answers. Between a Nobody and a Replica who used to live in a magic castle together and two AI, none of them are entirely sure what exactly capitalism is. It sounds vaguely bad though.

Despite that, Repliku makes a most astute observation. “Are you telling me you want to spar sometime.”

“Sure.” Himoyachi shrugs. He doesn’t like being punched by suprise, but even he likes throwing down now and again.

Said throwing down starts as Repliku wraps his cousin in a bone-crushing hug. “I won’t go easy on you,” he whispers, ominously.

“Didn’t expect you to, but-” Himoyachi wheezes, “-thanks.”

“I’ve had enough of fighting you for a lifetime,” says Taivas, who once had to fight Data-Repliku on max difficulty, thirty times and dying repeatedly, “But naturally ripped clothes sound way cooler.”

“We’re doing that then.” Repliku vibrates with excitement. He just might destroy something.

Eventually, they all leave with a load of the raddest clothing Repliku has ever laid eyes on and a new promise to absolutely throw down tomorrow (with mutual intent to fight included. Naminé has been practicing her magic and thinks she can keep them both from seriously hurting each other.)

Later, they walk into a store called Noel’s, the pure opposite of Spicy Theme_._

Namine takes one good look at the merchandise and gasps. “Look at these!” she says, pointing at a bunch of hairbands. “And these!” she says, gesturing at a pile of buttons.

“Hey, wait,” Himoyachi says, “and check these out.” He reveals a row of ribbons of varying color behind him with a flourish or something.

“They’re so cute!” A glint appears in her eyes, her expression rivaling Vanilla about to eat someone’s candy. “Hey, Repliku. You should try some on!”

In a rare display of boldness, she pulls him forward toward the accesoires rack. Somebody giggled at him, so he glares at each person present in turn, just to be sure. Namine doesn’t falter the slightest bit. Instead, she pulls out several bangles.

“Wouldn’t those match your new palette?”

Oh boy.

What follows is, of course, a montage of Naminé stuffing as many ribbons as humanly possible into Repliku’s hair. He is not pleased. His pleas for mercy go unheard.

“Oh, come on, you look cute.” Taivas, the bastard, takes a picture on his phone. He’s wearing cat ears.

“Yeah, you look wonderful!” says Naminé, the most adorbale traitor. It’s very much fun to watch Repliku fume at some ribbons.

A fter a very long while of people braiding his hair, Repliku gets the most devious idea. An idea so devious, not only will everyone cease bothering him at once, he will also get to see his frenemy in a state of complete embarrasment.

“What if,” -he pulls a ribbon out of his hair,- “we put a ribbon on Vanilla?”

Namin é lights up. “He’d look so cute!”

“I don’t know what he looks like but I agree!” Taivas agrees.

The most sceptical, Himoyachi considers the ribbon Repliku holds. “Personally, my favourite shade of red is #900018, but #b3140c also looks very nice.”

“I’m going to assume that’s carmine,” replies Namine, silently thanking her history of art and her observation skills. Most people would just say red. Neither of them is most people. “It matches his eyes very well.”

She reaches into her bag where Vanilla is located. She _keeps_ reaching into her bag until she’s up to her elbow. Also there is no Vanilla inside.

Whoops. “Repliku.” A grave expression crosses her face.

“Did you bring Vanilla with you.”

“Yes.”

“Did you lose him.”

“Maybe."

“Is he running around a populated mall unsupervised.”

“Probably?” Insert laugh track here, she thinks and rushes to the counter to pay as fast as possible.

Two people, a rather nervous couple, walk to the public restrooms in search of their friend. Creepy, they think, about the dimly lit hallway. Why does this mall have such a weird path to the toilet? It’s not like the owners don’t have the money to install a few more lights, the cheapskates.

“He has to be here. This is the only place we haven’t checked,” says the braver of the two. Their mutual friend sure is taking his time. One of the few lamps flickers and the less brave one shudders.

The less brave rubs her arms. “Maybe my eyes were playing tricks on me.” She’d feel better calling this whole thing off. If they wants to use the weird bathrooms for so long, why should that be his problem?

Something shifts. “Hello! Is anyone here?” the she calls again. She’s had enough of this, it’s just some hallway! An old, dusty hallway that’s seen better days for sure, but just a hallway in the end!

Something flashes. “Hello?”

“I guess I was wrong,” the second one speaks again. Maybe their friend is somewhere else. Somewhere _not here._

After the braver peeks inside the bathroom to find it empty, he turns to leave. “Well, it was worth a shot. I’ll head back to the fountain.”

“Okay, I’ll keep searching,” the other replies, glancing side to side. The implication of _not here though_ rings clear.

Just then, the bathroom door slams shut behind them both, thereby extinguishing one of the few lights the hallway claimed.

The shade left behind shines dark, almost pitch black.

“What?”

It swirls on the floor and stretches upon the wall into the twisted visage, the shadow growing taller than the both of them combined. The lights flicker once more, until an invisible hand douses them one by one.

The fearful one shakes, hides behind her companion. Even the braver cannot shake his shiver, yet he stare the shadow straight in the eyes.

Oh, yes, the shadow had eyes.

“It’s a monster!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have an announcement!!
> 
> Voting will officially end on June 15th! I'll hopefully be able to put the winner in chapter 12, because it's about time, seriously. 
> 
> Hope yall enjoyed, I'm having fun at least.
> 
> also the last scene this chapter has some very _deliberate_ phrasing on all of the dialogue. It's completely lifted from a scene somewhere in kh, and if somebody recognizes what I'm getting at or where I might possibly be going with it, you get a cookie or something. It's not the first time I've referenced things relating to that particular period :3c
> 
> Hasta la auf wieder bye-onara
> 
> edit: Oh Yeah Spicy Theme is Hot Topic. Obvious cuz Synonyms. I've never actually been to a Hot Topic.  
Noel's is Claire's and the name is a Witch's Heart reference cuz the protag of that game is called Claire and i love Noel. He deserved better. I wrote an entire TWO Witch's Heart oneshots on my edge pseud, Menagra, where i also put 2am kh stuff.


	12. crimeboys and honest communication

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Everybody finds Vanilla.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I completely forgot this in the last chapter (shame upon me) but this fic offically has fanart!!!! Serial commenter Salthat drew Hibiki and Ai!!   
[check it!!](https://rayjay-ice-cream.tumblr.com/post/617273688222466048/oof-usually-all-my-characters-have-long-songs)  
out!!  
[these are their canon appearances now i make the rules](https://rayjay-ice-cream.tumblr.com/post/617271598260568064/ai)  
[salthat i've said it before i love you](https://rayjay-ice-cream.tumblr.com/post/617271924185284608/pov-youre-roxas-and-you-walk-into-mo-soras)  
[ and i also redrew the i want to see my little boy vine with the squad](https://felikid.tumblr.com/post/618205353893593088/two-introverts-and-a-really-weird-cat-in-a)
> 
> chapter title used to be a persona 5 music reference now it's just a persona 5 meme reference. This chapter marks the day i beat Royal. Wild.

“So….,” says Taivas, breaking the ice, “Vanilla fits in your handbag?”

Why oh why did she expect him to behave. Honestly. They will have words later. “Yes.”

“And he… was here the entire time?”

Mud crawls through her head and out her throat. “Yes.”

“And now he’s,” -Taivas makes air-quotes around the word,- “’loose?’”

She shrugs with more force than necessary, “Probably!”

Repliku buts in with “Let’s save those questions for later. How about we look for him and stop him from breaking world order?” and oh goody he can totally tell how stressed Naminé is, the bloodhound. Doesn’t help that he kept offering to carry her bags or what else.

Naminé’s out of social brain juice, and really, she doesn’t want to keep her answers short and her body language stiff, and she  _doesn’t_ want to be out of juice yet, but she is. Get her a pack of juice and she’ll be fine. Any juice. Except maybe Papou juice because she doesn’t like it that much and it’s overrated.

“Great idea!” She claps her hands together and the smack sounds much to loud. “Let’s do just that!”

She strides ahead. Taivas and Himoyachi shoot each other a questioning look as Repliku frowns at her. However, none of them protest -there’s a Vanilla to catch- and trail after her.

A short and awkward walk later in the direction the screaming couple came from, places them at the mouth of an alley. An alley inside of a mall which is a building. Smart design.

The alley is dark. Ridiculously dark, even for ‘strange hallway inside a mall’ standards. Naminé takes out her phone and turns on the flashlight function. Gummiphones sure are handy.

The cone of light flits around the area, shaking back and forth.

“D’you think he’s here?” Taivas asks, making a show of looking left and right like some sort of scout.

A blink of red dashes through her vision. “Definetly.”

She stares intently at the spot she last saw him, as if he will magically appear if she looks hard enough. Repliku’s fingers twitch where he would hold the hilt of his blade.

The shadow appears again. Himoyachi jumps. “What the hell was that?”

Whereas a regular person would announce themselves by saying something along the lines of “Hi guys!”, Vanilla opts for an ominous laugh that bounces of the cramped walls. When the darkness converges in a puddle on the ground, the lamps flick back on. So that’s why it was so dark!

Naminé and Repliku stare at the form taking shape in the puddle with practiced neutrality. Himoyachi and Taivas, on the other hand, fall back in caution at the sight.

Until Vanilla, in all his glory, arises with a mighty roar.

A little to late, it occurs to both Naminé and Repliku that their new friends might murder Vanilla. Repliku leaps forward, arms and legs covering as much of the view as possible. “There’s nothing to see here!”

Once Naminé joins him, they both appear as if striking a finishing pose. “That’s right! Vanilla probably left and we should leave!”

Himoyachi blinks. Clears his throat. “Uh, do you honestly expect us to believe that?”

The overdramatic posers falter, their poses crumble, stopping short of tripping over each other and toppling to the floor.

Vanilla decides that they both have rancid vibes and says, “You ruined my dramatic entry! I practiced that!” He scuttles forwards between their legs.

“Oh my, he’s adorable!” Taivas glomps him. With speed that has won him many a fierce battle, he nuzzles the intimidating creature. Which claws at him and swears up a storm.

“You won’t kill him?” Repliku has seen neither of them draw a sword, chances are looking up.

In response, Taivas swings Vanilla around like a lion cub. “Are you kidding me? I could _never.”_

“I mean, we’ve been outlaws. We don’t snitch,” Himoyachi adds. Naminé actually falls to the floor.

“I’ll just-” she draws a shaking breath, “- lay here for a bit. You three become friends or something.

Repliku plops down on the floor next to her, sitting instead of laying. A glance back shows people walking past their little nook without sparing a look of their own. “You alright?”

First, Naminé sets her arms down next to herself, then heaves herself up. “I know my limits perfectly well, thanks.”

“Do you?” He gestures at her general disposition. Distantly, Himoyachi proclaims, “Yeah, we both had magic amnesia once. No big deal, really.”

She laughs at the sound of incredulous yelling behind her. “Of course.”

Repliku frowns. “So when you ran off at the party, you totally didn’t overstep your limits again?

“Again? What do you mean by that?”

“What I mean is, you always say that. You push through until you can’t and I find you off somewhere having a panic attack. You know that wasn’t the first time.” She isn’t having a panic attack now, is she? Naminé is just.. laying on the floor, at the mall, like a regular shopper.

“It doesn’t happen that often.”

Taivas giggles, and it’s not entirely sure what they’re doing. They run around in circles though, maybe a weird form of tag in which Vanilla walljumps everywhere.

“But it happens _enough._ You never ask for help, no matter what. I’ve gotten good at reading the signs.

“You remember what happened the first time.” She knows saying that is mean as can be. Nothing stops it from ringing true, though.

And Repliku understands that. “Sora wanted to help you. We both did.”

“But only because I messed with your memories!” Her voice picks up, she slaps a hand over her mouth when the others turn her way. Then, she shoos them of with an extra wave and they go back to horsing around.

“He would’ve helped you regardless.” The hand on Naminé’s shoulder is warm and firm. “You know why? Because you needed help. That’s all it takes.”

“You don’t know that.”

“I do. I worry because I want to.”

“Not because you feel sorry for me?”

“No!” Repliku’s expression is_ hurt_ when the last words leave her lips. For her or because of her, she can’t tell. _“_You’re my best friend, Naminé. I’ll always help you. I’ll never hold it against you, no one will.”

“And if I promise to ask, you’ll stop acting like such a mother hen?” Finally, the corners of her mouth turn upwards.

Repliku smiles as well and adds,  “Except when you paint for five hours straight. I  _will_ force you to eat lunch.”

“I can live with that.”

“With that out, anything you want to tell me?”

Refreshed but still tired without doubt, Naminé lets out a deep breath. “I’d like to go somewhere a little more quiet, please.”

After standing up, Repliku brushes dirt of his pants and turns to the other three they’d been ignoring for the past several minutes. “As soon as I get those three to be less stupid. It isn’t that hard, right?”

It is hard. But it’s a start. “Thanks. I know it can be.. difficult for you to act like this. I appreciate it.

Even though he makes a big show of crossing his arms, the annoyance is cleary fake. “Come on, I can be gentle.”

He glances left and right, reddening. “One last thing though. I could forget you a thousand times, but at the end of the day, I’ll always be by your side. You’re my best friend, and I-”

Whatever Repliku intented to declare stops in its tracks as a blur smashes into his face, knocking him off balance and back to the floor, shortly followed by Taivas tripping over Repliku’s remains and kissing dirt, in turn followed by an out of breath Himoyachi tumbling after his boyfriend.

Naminé snorts. Then laughs. Then laughs so hard tears threaten to spill.

Vanilla climbs onto the tangle of boys, proudly proclaiming, “No one can ever catch me, foolish children!”

She giggles again from her position next to them on the floor and shuffles closer. Vanilla remains so absorbed in his victory, Naminé nabs him. “Got you!”

While laughing at Vanilla, Taivas hits Himoyachi in the head with his elbow. Afterward, with a bunch more accidental kicks and hits, everyone stands at full height.

“Soooo,” Naminé draws out, because big serious conversations need to be compensated with theatrics, “what does Vanilla the Terrible, greatest monster the worlds have ever known, to say for himself?”

What Vanitas the Terrible, greatest monster the worlds have ever known (which he once called himself in a moment of overblown egoism) has to say for himself is, “HEY!” at a volume right between speaking and shouting.

“Well,” she taps on her bag. “It just so happens that I have an item which our dearest friend Repliku suggested I give to you.”

Vanilla’s eyes widen but makes no move to escape, since Naminé still holds him by the scruff of the neck.

Slowly, carefully, Naminé reaches into her bag with her free hand to retrieve said item. The three boys present track her movements with bated breath.

Red fabric comes into view, tied into the neatest shape of a ribbon. Vanilla, guessing exactly what fate shall befall him, gives his closest approximation of a frown.

He doesn’t even speak, instead letting Naminé seal his fate around his neck (it fits perfectly). “It matches your eyes.”

“I hate you.”

She pats him on the head. “Love you too.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this chapter is among the shorter ones because i split it AGAIN, as otherwise i'd go insane trying to rewrite the conversation between Namine and Repliku, breaking my head over show don't tell, and the fact that i suck at writing anxiety despite having it.
> 
> I'm still kinda happy how this turned out tho. Also took a month as usual, because i actually wrote a whole bunch of oneshots last month, some of which wasn't even kh, as well as getting absorbed in shin megami tensei hell again and writing a desu2/p5 crossover of my dreams. 
> 
> I also have a writing blog now! I'll post updates for everything i write on there.  
([here](https://hyper-juice.tumblr.com/))
> 
> in better news for this fic though, i didn't just write random oneshots, I wrote a whole bunch of snippets for this fic! Later chapters though. Including the entirety of chapter 14, because it is a bonus chapter officially introducing Repliku's name for the rest of the fic, which is 400 words long. 
> 
> Thank you once again to everyone who voted! I love every single comment on this fic, I'm still amazed we broke 100 kudos and 1000 hits! That's so many people!! Hell, the hit counter is approaching 2000!! I love yall.
> 
> Bye bye till next month!! (and also i got my report card for the year and my average is 1.3 which is _wayy_ high and i want to brag)


	13. did somebody mention delicious pancakes?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Just friends hanging out, eating pancakes.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> yes that title is a p5 reference. what of it. (the pancakes line is iconique alright)
> 
> have a chapter of everyone being friends! No bad things happening! Fwiendship only.
> 
> and sweetened condensed milk. What is that, you ask? Very russian and also delicious. Number one condiment for pancakes. Russian stores have it in these blue white cans, some german stores have it under the name Milchmädchen. It slaps. It's also a viscous liquid so don't think it's as liquid as regular milk. It's also sweetened to hell and back and _so_ tasty. I cannot write pancakes existing without it.

The cafe Taivas cheerfully lead them to is thankfully silent. Scattered throughout and in front are small tables with four chairs each, enough for the group and the few other patrons already enjoying various dishes. Taivas slams himself down on a seat in the corner surrounded by tall decorative plants. Chairs scrape as everyone else seats themselves.

They peruse the menu with a solitary goal in mind. That goal is pancakes. Many delicious pancakes as Vanilla demands and no one objects to.

“Found it,” Repliku says, pointing out the option to Naminé leaning over his shoulder. “We can take the largest option and then share?”

Murmurs of agreement meet him. This option also absolves Naminé of having to order anything besides her drink.

As they fold up their menus in the typical signal of ‘We’re ready to order,’ a waitress arives, her hair an uncomfortable shade of pink. Repliku makes the snap judgement of shoving Vanilla deeper into Naminé’s bag. Vanitas disappears with a quick yelp, which the waitress does not appear to notice.

“Welcome! What may I get you?” She says, notebook already in hand. Her gaze sweeps across the gathered friends, waiting. Expecting.

Repliku, the designated speaker of the group, glances at the menu one last time before ordering. “We’ll take the family sized pancake platter, please.”

The waitress notes it down with practiced speed. “Good choice! It includes complemantary condensed milk, very tasty. Any drinks?”

“Taivas?” “Black coffee!” “Himoyachi?” “Orange juice, please.” “Naminé?” “Just some water, thank you.” “And another coffee for me, preferably with cream.”

“Alright then! One pancake platter, two coffees, one black, one with cream, an orange juice and some water. Is that all?”

“Yes, thank you.”

“Coming right up!” She turns and leaves.

“Wait.” Himoyachi leans down to look at Naminé’s bag. “Does Vanilla want to drink anything?”

With the sound of tearing velcro, a head of purple pops back out of the shoulder bag. He shakes his head to rouse his flattened fur. “About time someone remembered. No thanks, by the way.”

Then, as if struck by lighting, Taivas smacks his hands against the table. “How do we feed Vanilla without anybody noticing??”

A mild conundrum arises as everyone puts their heads together. How do they gift Vanilla his share of pancakes without either soiling Naminé’s bag with sweetened condensed milk or alerting all other patrons to their creature of darkness?

The waitress nears, platter of pancakes held aloft. Panic sets in. Himoyachi glances back and forth, Repliku twists his napkin into various shapes, Taivas taps his foot against the floor. Only Naminé speaks, voice quiet but gaining strength, “Don’t worry.”

Fog seeps out along with her words. It swirls around Vanilla in a quick flash, obscuring him from view until the waitress stands before their table.

She gasps in the delight only attained when unexpectedly meeting an animal. “What a cute dog! What’s his name?”

“Vanilla,” Naminé smiles.

“Adorable. Make sure he behaves, alright?” She sets down her platter. “Here’s your order, one stack of pancakes together with your drinks. Enjoy!”

“Thank you.” After the waitress exits, Naminé places her phone on the table to complete the deception. Now, instead of a shade there sat a dog, and instead of said shade yelling it was a voice over the phone.

“How did you do that!” Instead of shaking her silly, Taivas opts to shake Himoyachi by the shoulders, almost dislodging both of them from their chairs.

Naminé runs her fingers over Vanilla’s back. He, meanwhile, already started devouring all scraps handed to him. “It’s illusion magic. Travelers use it to maintain World Order.”

“I thought you could only do small things?” Repliku _looks_ at her, at her illusion. He doesn’t express distaste that the powers that fooled him have grown to fool others, no. His gaze is soft and the corners of his lips turn up when he asks.

All Nobodies are born empty. Even if they don’t stay empty, the magic of the worlds they came from wiggles its way inside the negative space, infusing them from the inside out. All higher Nobodies have a specialty like that, and, though Naminé’s is and always will be memory, smoke and mirrors remain her bread and butter. Long since past are the days of twisted charms.

Using her powers like this, so everyone can smile and laugh together, makes her fledgeling heart dance. Repliku doesn’t look disappointed, Naminé realizes, because he’s _proud_ of her. 

Speaking of fledgeling heart, Vanilla might be the oldest person here. “How old is everyone here? I know Repliku and I are three.”

“I think we’re two,” Taivas says, resting his head on the table.

Himoyachi corrects immediately, “We were created approximately one year and ten months ago. Our birthdays are in Autumn.”

First, Vanilla finishes chewing. Then, he says, “I’m either fifteen or two. Do comas count?”

Repliku promptly chokes on his pancake and thumps against his own chest to regain air. “You’re  _fifteen?”_

“What about it? You’re three!”

Naminé slaps his back and Repliku finally stops choking. “Nothing! I didn’t expect you to be the oldest here.”

“Considering you’re.. you know. Your kind aren’t really known for being long lived.” While asking, Naminé takes note of the implication that Vanilla has apparently been in a coma for _thirteen_ _years._ That’s not… a pancake topic though. 

“Hey! I’m the oldest and _strongest_ of my kind!”

Taivas buts in, “What kind are you anyways? Cuz you’re not a Heartless or your eyes would be yellow.”

“I’ve never seen a Heartless shaped like you either,” Himoyachi adds.

Vanilla rears up on his hind legs, the points digging into Naminé’s thighs. “That’s because I’m not!”

“What are you then?” Naminé manouvres him into her arms, so he can feel tall and not skewer her at the same time.

“Why should I tell. I don’t know what you are.” He crosses his little arms and Naminé does her very best not to coo at him, since he is both very adorable and hates being told as much

“I’m a Nobody.”

“You are? Doesn’t seem like it. You’re.. emotional. Legitimately. Not like the others I’ve met, they sucked. You’re better.”

“Aww, Vanilla. You admit you like me?”

“I do not!” His refusal is undermined by the simple fact he currently sits in Naminé’s arms and refuses to escape. The other traitors at the table laugh at him. Or with him? What’s the difference?

She puts him back down and pushes a small plate  filled with more pancake slices , one of those miniature plates that come with cups sometimes, toward him. He takes another bite. And, despite the fact he should rightfully be angered by their blatant disrespect, his grimace loosens. 

Despite everything, despite being smaller than everyone else, less powerful, less dangerous, he feels… No, he can’t name it. If he forced a word upon the feeling curling in his stomach, it would become… 

He stops eating. Vanitas isn’t hungry anymore.

Despite that, the others continue. They stay for at least another hour, during which they talked and joked about all sorts of things.

“Wait, you almost stole a wedding invitation?”

“We actually stole a Gummi-Ship!”!

“Yeah, so then I threatened to break his nose-” “And then he ran off and you got detention for a week-”

“So she _thought_ it was pudding, when in actuality it was-” “Her paint bucket!”

"And then he tried to spin in the chair but _launched himself out-_"

Eventually, when the pancakes near their end, Taivas has a suggestion. “Remember that one time in the groupchat when I fainted? Wanna know what it looks like??”

His excitement to show off his neat abilities ran directly counter to Himoyachi’s enthusiams about the affair. “Please don’t.”

What he didn’t consider, is that, hyped up from either sugar or the joy of friendship, Vanilla is an agent of chaos. “I want to see. You should do it, it would be _cool.”_

Immediatly, the phone on the table Vanilla supposedly spoke through as far as passerby thought, springs to life, and an _actual _voice exits. “Pretty cool, right?”

Meanwhile, his head hits the table and Vanilla croaks a laugh. In that moment, the waitress from before decided it would be just the right moment to give them their check. She jumps back a meter and yells, “_Jesus Christ,_ kid, can you stop doing that.”

Both Naminé and Repliku continue letting their mouths hang open enough to let flies in. “He’s narcoleptic!” says Himoyachi.

Taivas bounces back up as Vanilla fruitlessly attempts to catch his breath. The waitress sighs, hands him the check. “One day your trick is going to give someone a heart attack.”

“Sorry. I’ll pay.” He pulls out his own purse between eco-friendly cloth bags storing more cloth inside. “Keep the change.”

“Thanks. Have a good day and I hope to see you again soon!”

They gather their things, including Vanilla back in the shoulder bag. This time, his upper half hangs out, appearing to the world as a simple bag-sized dog. Maybe his words sound like barking. Then he could say whatever he wanted, with the exception of the idiots exempt from Naminé’s magic, who could in that scenario still understand him.

“I had a lot of fun today,” Naminé says. She hugs the two data-boys, who return her embrace. 

“Yeah,” Himoyachi agrees, “and don’t think I’ll forget about that offer to spar, Repliku.”

In a display of complete bro-ness, they give each other a fistbump that transitioned into the handshake-and-then-hug bro manouvre. “You better be ready.”

Taivas goes in for a group hug, which Vanilla wiggles his way out of on account of otherwise getting crushed. “See you three on Monday?”

“Sure thing.”

And after one last stop at a departmen store for Naminé, Repliku, and Vanilla, they return home together, satisfaction in their stomachs and strenghtened bonds in their hearts. It was the better decision to stay  a little  longer, after all.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have, perhaps, mildly exciting news. And that is that this month I've been working on my entries for kh oc week! I'll be participating with Hibiki and Ai, with entries of varying quality. Two of them are even drabbles. 
> 
> Now it's back to the drawing board for me though. The next chapter might buy me some time, but this is the point where my outlines get a little vague and I've got to hammer that out before I can hit the final arc I've been so excited to write ever since starting this.
> 
> Summer vacation is already more than halfway over... I finished some other stuff (namely my fanfic Ping) and got a different draft almost ready to go, so I can't let myself forget about this fic. Yell at me to work on it every comment is like, an instant motivation booster. I hoard them all in a comment folder and look at them when i want to cry from happiness. Love y'all!
> 
> Till two weeks when I'll post the bonus chapter~


	14. BONUS: 2.0

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Repliku tries something new.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And here it is, the promised bonus chapter! A lot shorter than a regular chapter, but i still like this one a lot. Thanks again to everyone who voted! I truly loved every suggestion. What a pity I can only use one of them.
> 
> Today's chapter is sponsored by the "How to dye hair" wikihow article.

Repliku dyed his hair in the sink.

When he first held the bottle of blond dye in his hands, Naminé looked between it and the strand of hair twirled around her finger. She shifted on her feet and said, “Won’t it feel like you’re copying me, then?”

“Not if it’s you,” he replied, because he couldn’t imagine an universe where he was loathe to share with Naminé. He took her free hand in his, words thick as honey and twice as sweet, “I want to match with you.”

Of course, the third person present couldn’t help but drawl, “Aren’t you just the sweetest?” Thereby reminding them they were still standing inside the store.

Now they both keep him company in the bathroom as the mixture sets in. Naminé takes of her safety gloves - she had been the one to mix everything - and Vanilla taps at his phone as the timer he set ticks on.

He laughs about something Vanilla said. Later on, he won’t remember what it is, but he will recall catching sight of himself in the mirror. A snapshot of his own face contorted into a grin with all his teeth flashing. The thought rises, _That’s not Repliku anymore._

They both leave him in the bathroom to rinse out his hair. He watches the dye run in the shower, leaving streaks in its wake.

He sees himself in the mirror again. New hair, new clothes, not just that, a new demeanor almost, nothing other than cosmetics yet something inside has taken a new shape. Still, he finds Riku in the color of his eyes or the shape of his nose. It’s familial resemblence, nothing less expected of brothers.

He wonders, who’s staring back at him?

Repliku steps out of the bathroom, wearing the scuffed clothing they all got him, hair dyed soft blond.

Naminé cheers, “You look great, Repliku!”

He crosses his arms and huffs, the very picture of confidence clad in a mess of red and black with a dye job that doesn’t quite reach his roots. But every imperfection only raises his spirits. “From today on, I’m no longer just Repliku. I am the new and improved… Neo!”

“You look great, Neo!” Naminé says again.

“Thanks.”

“You look like an idiot!” Vanitas yells in. A large yellow splotch stains his back, when he tried to hold the bottle and failed.

“Says the guy in the ribbon.”

“Shut it, Neo!”

Neo laughs.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> All of you might be interested to now i participated in khoc-week this year! Of course, with Hibiki and Ai. If you're interested in checking that out, all entries can be found on my [witing sideblog](https://hyper-juice.tumblr.com/) under the khocweek2020 tag. It was a lot of fun! I'll definetly be doing it again next year. I was so tempted to post a future chapter bit for day 4, but alas. I restrained myself and wrote something else. What that speaks for the content of said future chapter? Who knows~ (well. i do.)
> 
> Besides that, in another shameless act of self-promotion, I wrote a persona q2 post-canon fic about hikari, if any of you happen to care about her. It's "say darling, hello again"~ Finally a fic for the game which inspired my first kh fic with its music. Weird how that works, isn't it?
> 
> I also started editing a book my friend wrote, and that's a lot of fun~ I can mercilessly dissect the text without losing my mind since i'm not the one who wrote it. Editing is nice.
> 
> As always, thank you so much for reading, and i hope to see you all again~


	15. but you've got to admit that i do it with style

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> What is art? Does art help with world domination? Are intricate revenge plots a form of art? How does one create art without hands?
> 
> These questions and maybe less on today's chapter.
> 
> today's song is the way old childish war english cover by jubyphonic cuz it still bops

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hewwo everybody I'm late and also this chapter is way short because i got writer's block writing about artist's block. Damn, that's kinda meta. Also this chapter is short because if i don't post it now I never will.

Naminé picks up the brush. Naminé puts down the brush and picks up the eraser. Naminé puts down the eraser. The clock ticks a minute up.

Neo leans back in the beanbag chair, his honoray throne whenever hanging out in Naminé‘s room. Which he did pretty often. Sprawled out next to him, Vanilla, his fur tickling Neo‘s cheek, tries to swat at the buttons again.

“Stop that,“ Neo says. He selects the next move for his plant toad to fire of against the enemy dragon. In response, Vanilla elects to poke his cheek.

“That‘s not very effective, idiot. You should‘ve switched.“ The enemy‘s HP-bar ticks down as the clock ticks up another minute. On the next turn, his plant toad, affectionately named _‘Bungus’_, succumbs to the enemy‘s gales. “Told you.“

“Shut up.“ After ruffling the fur on Vanilla‘s head, Neo puts the game down and stands up, his joints varying degrees of creaking when he stretches. The clock ticks up one more.

“Naminé?“

She picks up the pencil. She puts down the pencil. “What is it?“

“It‘s time for lunch.“

“But I‘m not finished yet!“ Indeed she hadn‘t finished, because her canvas stood as barren and blank as an author‘s brain coming up with a creative descriptor. She started two hours ago.

In a very eloquent response, Neo slings Naminé over his shoulder – gently, unlike what one might expect – and makes for the door. One last time, Naminé reaches out to the canvas, only to give up and accept her fate of having to eat lunch. She sighs in token resistance, but this was agreed upon, after all.

Neo has explicit permission to force her to take breaks and eat lunch. Curse those promises.

Exit Neo and Naminé. Enter Vanitas, now alone.

Immediatly, he sniffs around. He can‘t deny that Naminé‘s table hasn‘t made him curious before; she simply always shooed him off since learning of the fun he had with Neo‘s homework.

Right now, though, with Neo carrying her down for a well deserved break and Naminé not around to object… the table is his.

He knew of pencils and paper and the like, basics mostly. There was no need for art when training to murder somebody, after all. Maybe understanding art can help his plans? Yeah, right. With what hands? He just doesn‘t have anything better to do than get to know his friends better.

What a gross thought. Instead of dwelling on it further, Vanitas first climbs the absurdly tall chair. Then, with all his might, he leaps up on the _humongous _table. Gigantic. Towering above all. 

Up there, he glimpes an empty canvas for but a second before splattering it with thick dark blue due to his fearsome power skidding out of control. He slams against the back wall, though gets up unscathed a moment later.

Unlike the canvas. Ouch.

Even in this state, it appears what Naminé had been working on for the past two hours was… not much. Torn up sketches, loose paper adorned with indistinct lines. Maybe that’s art?`What even is  _art?_ Then again, Naminé acted none too pleased about herself when Neo carted her off. 

Well, she never acted too pleased about herself, but his point still stood.

Because the canvas in the middle of the table is obviously supposed to be a piece of art. And, mere minutes previous, it stood empty. He tip-toes around his, uh,  _work,_ careful not to step into the puddles of paint dripping to the floor.

The table stinks. Like paint. Like very much paint absolutely everywhere and. By the stars above maybe Neo will finally kill him.

He ruined a perfectly good canvas. Look at it, its got splatters.

Maybe  _that’s _ art? In all his not that many years of actually living, Vanitas never even considered art. Are the Unversed art? They all have different designs, and color schemes, and he really likes that one with the musical instruments. 

Maybe art is what he needed, after all. Maybe art will prove him right, despite the fact Vanitas didn’t ruin any actual  _work._

The paint drips and drips slowly like crawling Floods, over the edge of the canvas, down the table, to the floor in wet splashes. Almost inaudible. Vanitas stares, looking and thinking, until the pitter patter of drops transitions into footsteps.

Wait, when did those start?

Maybe his hypothesis will get tested earlier than expected.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hellllllllllo everybody!! Today's installment is short bcuz as I said i kinda got writer's block, but only on like, this fic. Because my profile will reveal i actually wrote a _ton_ of other stuff, including a Vanitas-centric kh fic i started up 11 days ago. 
> 
> Well, first of i got like wayyyy hyperfixated on miwashiba games (even wrote two oneshots for em), with 1bitHeart in particular occupying any and all braincells i possess for like... at least two weeks. I wrote several essays on it, made fanart, created memes, and made a theory/shitpost that got added to a character's trivia page. 
> 
> Otherwise i got sick with some sort of currently unknown stomach bug, which sucked. I'm.. mostly recovered from that, but then immediatly caught a cold.
> 
> Also, I discovered that the way I've been writing this fic just does not suit me at all? What i did was make like "writing days" where i'd sit down and write an entire chapter. This was kinda, not efficient. I got stuck thinking "oh no this chapter is too short and I'm late" n stressed out cuz this is the most popular thing i've ever written. Love yall. Can't believe we passed 2k hits.
> 
> So that's kinda the reason i started writing Jailbreak, my current other multi-chapter kh fic, to like, get away from the pressure i put on myself. That fic is no planning whatsoever off the rails. It has no set chapter lengths and i mainly just ended chapters wherever i felt like. Instead, i posted a chapter every single day. And let me tell you, writing like 300 words a day is soooo much better than writing 1.5k on a set day of the month. You can tell by the fact that my current draft for Jailbreak is 5k long, and i started writing, as i said, 11 days ago.
> 
> So to conclude my rambles, I'll prolly make my chapters shorter just because i found out that style's much more up my alley. Shorter chapters, higher word count, you dig. Which means I'll try n apply it to this fic as well, and shift to updating once a.. week? maybe? I'll try and update this sunday, since i work muchhhh better when i set an actual deadline. 
> 
> Once a week because I'm still having a blast being mean to characters by writing Jailbreak. That fic is kinda angsty, if any of yall are interested. If you've been in the kh tag the past week you've prolly seen it pop up thrice already lmao.
> 
> to summarize my summary: short chapters means more often update means actually more words, i may have adhd. 
> 
> srry for the AN that's prolly longer than the chapter see yall on sundayyyyyy


	16. don't you know your actions have consequences

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "Felix, it's not sunday yet," you say. And i say, "Wrong! It's 1am! I live ahead of you all!"
> 
> therefore, the first of the new weekly shorter chapters! It's already looking up for my writing pace~
> 
> (I don't care that ao3 and it's time zone says this was published on the 26th. THIS WAS PUBLISHED ON SUNDAY. "Publication date can't be set in the future" I _live_ in the future dipshit)
> 
> once again this fic is only rated t so vanitas (and I, in the author's notes) can say dipshit

The door slams open.

“Vanilla, are you alright? Oh.” Naminé’s call trails off once the carnage enters her line of sight. “Nonononono!” She shuffles toward her ruined ‘creation.’ ”Vanilla, what did you _do?”_

In her despair, she let her head drop - almost against the table if Neo hadn’t held her back. “If you want to dye your hair blue, go right ahead.

From an upright stance instead, Naminé gestures at the mess dripping on the floorboards. “My work!!” After, she falls silent, listening intently as the paint slides downward.

Neo steps forward. Vanitas suppresses a shiver at that glare. “What do you have to say for yourself?”

Judge, Jury, Executioner. The defendant? Guilty. Vanitas reconsiders his feelings toward the death penalty, yet still decides to forego parole in favor of snark. “I didn’t ruin any _work,_ now did I?”

While Neo huffs, Naminé continues her silence. “Earth to Naminé? He ruined your canvas!”

“Stop it. He’s right,” she sighs. “He put more on that canvas by accident than I did in two hours. It’s… fine.”

“It’s not fine,” Neo pouts, “It’s still your canvas.”

“No, no. Wait. I can work with this.” Slowly, her resignation morphs into excitement. “I can work with this! Look, look,” she points at the splatters, “see how the paint’s making shapes? I can _use_ those! I know what I’m going to draw!”

“Thanks?” replies Vanitas

Neo, likely to fail an inkblot test, doesn’t really get it. At least Naminé’s happy, and that makes him happy, so. Howeverrrrrrr, “We’ve got to clean up this mess before you do anything, Naminé. You’ll get paint on your socks.

Naminé, who almost seated herself on the chair right next to Vanitas, appears crestfallen. Her socks, a soft pink, remain spotless, but at what cost? How can she live, keeping the idea bottled in her brain for longer than needed? When her brushes sing her name in heavenly choir? When finally, the great gods of inspiration struck her mind like lightning?

While Naminé is busy writing a soliloquy, Vanitas shivers. Neo looms above him, a grin adorning his face. “We’ll all clean up _together, _right? No exeptions.”

The asshole has the gall to laugh when Vanitas slides across the floor on soapy cloth. The dipshit _actually_ laughs when Vanitas steps on _two_ cloths, dragging his legs in different directions. Naminé also giggles at him. Traitors, all of them.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> yes the chapter title is the iconique sammyclassicsonicfan quote. what of it. i used to watch chadtronic in 2016.
> 
> you ever just like, get some dirt on your paper and think, "yo wait. this is good actually?" like making cats out of ink dots. or those damn eraser fuzzies. and like, sometimes it's more productive to slap some paint on a canvas and go from there instead of obsessing over the first stroke forever.
> 
> also!! important detail from the last chapter is that neo and vanitas play pokemon together. By "together" i mean neo plays because he has thumbs and vanitas yells at him for his shitty tactis. neo is totally one of those people who discards non-damage moves on principle.


	17. deductive reasoning is a great coping mechanism

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Neo and Vanitas have a short talk, and the day of the show finally arrives.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i thought i already had this chapter drafted only to realize it was the _last_ chapter that got duplicated in drafts somehow (which happened before when I didnt manage to mark AI stands for Adventure Incoming as complete bcuz chapter 2 got doubled) so now i took my script-draft and rewrote it on sunday, after obsessing over the upcoming endings to jailbreak the past week. Time management!!

Once everything’s finished and the carpet sadly still landed in the washing machine, Naminé eagerly throws herself at her work. Vanitas and Neo both stare on in wonder as paints hit the canvas faster than.. not faster than they can blink, because then it would spill everywhere. But still pretty fast. Neo makes a mental note to tell Naminé to put on an apron next time.

Neo knows that talking to her at this point is useless. One time, he called her name fourteen times (he counted), until she responded. She wasn’t even listening to music.

So Neo plops back down on the beanbag chair, Vanitas reluctantly following behind to their pre-lunch positions. Deciding to speak to the only othe person in the room, Neo says, in a perfectly friendly manner, “Naminé’s not mad at you, but I sure am. Care to explain?”

At this point in conversation, Vanitas sort of expected to be hurled through the windows at high speeds, instead of whatever faux friendly expression Neo has going on. Anger management must be working. He holds his head high in his own faux confidence and declares, “I wanted to.”

Neo’s handheld console switches back on and the title music briefly startles them both. “You spilled all that paint because you _wanted to?_ Nothing else?”

And also because it’s a bit embarrasing to tell Neo Vanitas can’t control his strength yet. Even after a month. Or maybe he’s _regaining_ a bit of power? Interesting thought. “Yes.”

Vanitas still isn’t hurled out the nearest window. Neo pets him on the head with a regular amount of force. “You get lucky this time, I’ll be lenient since Naminé’s happy with it.” His smile says he wasn’t mad at all, just confused at any course of action that involved spilling paint over the nice carpet. “If you’re bored, or if you want to eat dinner with us, just say so, alright?”

Not breaking her intense amounts of hand movement or perking up from the definetly unhealthy crouched position, Naminé yells, “I’ve got some stuff on the GummiPhone I can show you!” haflway across the room.

During the brief talk, Neo booted the game back up to their latest save, and he grins. “Now, oh master tactician, let’s see if your tactics can beat the champ this time.”

“Like it wasn’t _your _fault we lost.” Vanitas scrambles up on Neo’s shoulder and peers at the tiny screen.

Lucky, huh?_ This_ time? That’s going somewhere. For now, time to play. It’s great speaking (and yelling) practice for Vanitas, and Neo always loathes to admit Vanitas is better at remembering type matchups than he is.

* * *

“Naminé. Naminé. Hey, Naminé!” Said girl, despite Neo calling her name three times, continues to pace back and forth across the yard. It’s the day of the show, her work is highly experimental, _and_ a person she greatly admires made time in his busy schedule to visit her specifically. Great.

“What is it?” Can’t he see she’s busy rubbing the soles off her sandals?

In contrast to her busy business, Neo, and by extension Vanilla in his backpack, sits on a nearby rock, calm as can be. Around them, students and visitors alike pour through the school gates, all anticipating the same event. “Let’s review the facts for a bit. You met Terra when-”

“We were both disembodied spirits and I asked him to help everyone not die.”

“Right, right.” Vanitas suddenly wonders what sorts of shenanigans he hadn’t been privy to on the bad guys’ side. “And you’re afraid he’ll..?”

“Hate my work and then me because it’s terrible and I’ll die,” Naminé replies in a single breath.

Neo sighs, in a I-expected-this-but-still sort of way. “Is there any precedent for Terra hating your art?”

She slows her pacing and rubs one arm with the other. “Well, no. Not really. He always really liked the stuff I showed him.” Sometime after the whole Second Keyblade War thing and then that other thing with Sora, Naminé and Terra started regularly meeting up for tea and just chatting. She’d take her newest pieces with her, he’d fawn over them, and Naminé’d run red as a tomato from praise. So, quite the opposite.

“And did he ever say or do anything that _makes it clear_ he hates you? He’s not a subtle guy.” Neo puts extra emphasis on the _makes it clear_ part, since sometimes the both of them, - Neo included – tend to grab a sentence out of context and spin an entire terrible narrative around it. This narrative is – without exception – wrong, of course.

“I don’t think so.” She takes a a last step and stops. “There’s really no reason for everything to blow up in my face, except if the judges think my entry is too experimental and I-”

“Hey, Naminé!” Enter Terra, waving amicably and with no reason whatsoever to smite Naminé on the spot.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> reasoning as a coping mechanism for anxiety is something i figured after watching 200+ episodes of detective conan. It tends to be very effective. Also next up is the part i have the least amount of planning for ajkndxsdcx. I just have one (1) conversation that _needs_ to happen. 
> 
> Also Terra is finally here as promised. Him and Namine having tea was actually in the original draft for the first chapter! Got cut though because the scene was entirely useless and did not fit the setting i ended up on. 
> 
> Second sunday keeping up! Let's hope for next week! Bye-bye!


	18. bad dreams, good memories

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i got absorbed by xenoblade chronicles which made me late for the jailbreak finale which in turn made me late for this chapter so either blame my faulty attention span or those evil video games. well if yall didnt like video games i'd seriously wonder what you're doing here.
> 
> anway, jailbreak finished!! at 9.5k, my third kh mutli chapter fic offically closed off with a good ending, in contrast to the other two endings, which end not so good. If you want more bastard vanitas content i'd recommend it, but it _is_ an angst fic, so beware.
> 
> without further ado, the promised terra content

The past ten years of Terra’s life were fuzzy. Like he was sleeping, or dreaming, or dissociating, or so many different words. Point being: when he finally came to be himself again, and actually had the _time _to consider all that, he’d been a little confused. Too many sets of memories ran parallel in his head, and they clashed. _A lot._

It was a very happy coincidence he met someone who could help him.

The first time they talked – not met, _talked – _was one of his worse days. Names and places all muddled and mixed, he almost couldn’t remember who he’s supposed to be now. He breathed in until the air filled every inch of his lungs and breathed out. His name was Terra. He was in Radiant Garden. He was here for a health check-up from his many years spent being neither dead nor alive, and he <strike>ran away again</strike> took an extended break because he <strike>couldn’t bear what he had done to the ones caring for him now</strike> needed some fresh air.

It was cold and quiet. Then, footsteps, almost inaudible over his breathing.

“Is somebody there?”

“Uhm, hello,” a girl’s voice squeaks behind him. It’s one he’s heard before, probably. One of him, anyways. He often couldn’t tell which. Her golden hair reminded him of someone, and her face reminded him of someone else, but she altogether reminded him of no one at all. “I’m Naminé.”

He might have heard that name before; it was all so muddy. All just mud made of mistakes and regret.

“You’ve been having trouble with your memory lately?” It’s by all means a statement, yet her voice ticked up in the tone of a question. Her stare was fixated on his face, but not his eyes. Just slightly below, on his nose. Terra only noticed because he stared back just as intently. At least she didn’t scan his eyes for a hint of yellow.

“That’s right,” was all Terra replied. He wanted to how she knew what he hid with so much care, yet he felt that she just  _did._ That she was the type to know these things. 

She scratched her thumb or shuffled back and forth or looked left and right in a myriad of twitches he’d never seen on anyone before, and asked a question that would spark a friendship of two lost souls, “Do you want me to help you with that?”

What she did, what no one had ever done for him, what reminded him of nothing but the new memories he made was,

she painted him a picture.

* * *

It was a drawing of him, Terra. Together with people he couldn’t place just yet.

Often, whenever he visited Radiant Garden, really, Naminé would appear with a drawing. “I can see into people’s memories,” she said, after a sip of tea Terra had made for her as a meager payment, “and I did very bad things with this ability. I changed memories, muddled them together. I’m just-,” she stopped and beamed at him, “I’m just so happy I can finally use it for good. I want help you put yourself together.”

And she did. That meeting hadn’t been the first, and it hadn’t been the last. Bit by bit, Terra had the opportunity to physically sort his memories. Five piles – Terra, Lingering Will, Ansem, Xemnas, Guardian – growing taller and taller into a timeline Terra _understood,_ all thanks to the girl whose life one of his had a hand in ruining.

He felt like a person again. It was only fair he reminded her that she was one, too.

“Thank you, Naminé.”

Every single time they met, Terra said those words again and again. Whenever, wherever, under whichever circumstances. And, they started making new memories.

* * *

When Terra arrives on Destiny Islands, his mood is bright and sunny, just like the weather. Coming over via Keyblade Glider allows him to easily stash away all evidence of interstellar travel within the confines of his heart, and his definetly-not-local clothes are unnoticed in the throng of people rushing to and from the school.

He’d been so proud when Naminé invited him to her first ever art competition. At one of their weekly meetups for tea – Terra became quite skilled at making it just right – Naminé spoke a little less than usual. She twirled her hair between her fingers and pointedly avoided directing her gaze anywhere close to his face, and he’d realized something was up.

“Is there anything you want to say?” Terra naturally asked her.

“Well, you know how I also like to draw outside of my powers?”

He did, indeed. Stunning pictures, all of them, so he nodded.

She sipped her tea, and continued, “and you know I live with Kairi now? At school, Destiny Islands’ High School, the only one, actually, funny thing – Anyway, at school, there’s going to be an art competition, and they’ll sell the pieces to refurnish the school and, I, uh.”

It didn’t take a genius to see where this was going. “Are you going to enter?”

“Yes! But, but, that’s not it. I wanted to ask, well, _you,_ whether you want to cometotheshowandlookatmypainting,” Naminé’s speed increased the longer she spoke, eventually leading to her words bleeding together into an unintelligible compound.

“What was that last part?”

“I want you to come to the show and look at what I’ve made. Will you?”

“Of course!”

Back in the present, being taller than the typical inhabitant of the area grants him a gaze at the school gate, after which one doesn’t need to wonder why anyone would want to renovate it. Near said run-down gate, he spots the girl he considers to be something of a little sister at this point, and he already feels the smile grow on his face.

If he gets the opportunity to play supportive older brother, not even darkness itself will stop him.

“Hey, Naminé!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> special shoutouts to the fic Moonlight by Natterina, which kinda kickstarted this flashback sequence. It has a _wildly_ different take on post-canon Terra, but the whole memories thing inspired me. I love the idea of Nam using her powers for good so much.... also Terra gets to be _everybody's_ big brother and nothing will stop him.
> 
> when you get stuck do a pov switch is to this day _the_ most useful writing tip i have ever received.
> 
> terra and nam having tea together has been my hc since starting this fic but i never managed to mention it before now :(
> 
> do yall ever consider that terra has been. five people at this point? and up to _three_ at the same time??? the poor guy has to be so confused. 
> 
> next time: liberal description of art in a written medium, and a chapter title once i actually come up with one


	19. an art is a type of uhhhhhhhhh

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i wanted this chapter to be longer but my brain did _not_ want to cooperate and i didn't want to be late again!! anyways, I finally know what I'm doing now!!
> 
> yes i paid attention in art class impressionism slaps
> 
> also my ocs appear again.... have taeko fill in for random announcer girl! love repurposing ocs across fics. she's from my persona fic, actually~

It’s showtime, as in, it is time for the show. The show happening now. The art show. That one.

Regardless of the moment’s status as literal showtime, everyone went inside and gathered in the gym. Neo has Vanilla. That’ll _hopefully_ be fine. Terra is standing behind her, and his firm hand on her shoulder prevents Naminé from vibrating in place.

The announcer is someone from the film club, she thinks. The dramatic one with a microphone. She swings a microphone around in the gym’s center right now, so Naminé’s assessment is likely correct. “Welcome, everybody!” she says, “It is an _honor_ to see you here at our humble art show. Please, take a look around the gallery filled by our talented students.” The hand not holding the mic sweeps to the left, over the many different canvases and other assorted structures lining the walls.

“Afterwards-,” she walks back and slaps a bright red paper box-, “please do not forget to vote for your favourite piece, so we may crown a winner! We will reconvene here in three hours, until then, have fun!” To finish her speech, the film club girl bows and is met with polite applause.

Then, she hurries off to what Naminé thinks are the baker girl and the guy Neo hates. The crowd disperses around the makeshift gallery. Naminé pretends she doesn’t notice Neo shuffling away to let her spend time with Terra. Come baaaaaack. Alas, her telepathic attempts to reach him fail.

“Which one’s yours?” Terra asks as soon as speaking is polite again.

Naminé physically can’t show him her own work first. Before that, she must gather information on how he feels about art!! And Naminé needs to mentally prepare for the mortifying ordeal of showing serious art to a friend. Art is the biggest snitch she has ever encountered. Your art _will_ reveal the machinations of your mind and there’s nothing you can do about it.

“Let’s save it for now, alright? I wouldn’t want you to be biased towards the other works here.” _Ohhh,_ that’s a good excuse. You go, Naminé!

As evident by Naminé pushing Terra, who is very much built like a fridge, to the left and him actually _moving_ to the left, he does not protest this course of action, even when a look of confusion briefly crosses his face.

They are. standing in front of a painting. Terra holds a hand to his chin and hmmmmmms. He’s doing a very good job of pretending to know art, and it warms Naminé’s heart a little.

“So, what is it?” he finally says, thereby reminding Naminé she watched for Terra’s reaction the entire time rather than looking at the painting itself.

“Um.” She plays for time, and finally witnesses what may or may not be art, but is rather obviously a painting of the girl who just played announcer. The artist’s name tag besides it marks it as Ai’s. Who knew the baker girl and the microphone girl are together? Good for them.

Wait, speaking. Right, she forgot. She stares at the individual strokes of paint more closely, and realizes they’re not strokes at all. “Oh wow, this is impressionism!”

Terra, a mere mortal, does not know what that means. “Impressionism?”

Naminé lights up like a christmas tree. “Yes! You see how the artist doesn’t use continuous strokes, but instead utilizes drops of color? Wait, wait, try stepping back a bit, you’ll see!”

She places a hand on Terra’s chest, and he moves back. He squints. Enlightenment appears on his face. “I can see it now! It’s a person!”

With a bit of distance, disjointed flecks of paint run together into a shape he can recognize. Naminé delights in his reaction. “See! Impressionist pieces are meant to be viewed from a distance! The tiny spots all make a greater whole together! It’s not meant to convey _reality_, exactly, but rather the _impression_ of the subject! Instead of taking the objective view like realist works try to, impressionism conveys feelings and how the world looks to _us._”

“That’s very impressive! You know a lot about art. I’m all the more excited to see what you came up with.”

“Uhh, hmm, oh.” Suddenly, with the force of a freight train, Naminé notices that she spewed an entire art lecture. Her face’s color would make for an impressive shade. “It’s an impressive work! Is all!”

“But you enjoyed talking about it,” Terra says, “and I never would’ve looked at it like that if you hadn’t told me. It’s nice.”

Before she can explode, she grabs him by the arm and tears him to the next exhibit. “Papier-mâché!“

A rather impressive array of incomprehensible shapes stacked to the roof winks down at them. Literally. It has at least five eyes. Terra hunches down to read the plaque on the ground. “All the script drafts the film club threw out because they were terrible, represented in the accumilation of all our failures.”

Alright. “Interesting…,” is all Naminé decides to say, and they move on.

This time, Terra walks on without Naminé dragging him, since he does possess feet. Two of them. Unlike that statue, which may have had four.

“Am I seeing double?” Terra points further away, where two Rikus are discussing something. “One of them is Neo, right?”

He got that right, at least. “Yup! Let’s go talk to them!” Naminé shuffles to the very mean boy who totally abandoned her. Okay, Naminé knows she’s being hyperbolic. She can be mean to him in her brain if she wants to.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> also shoutout to whoever of you left me an ask on [tumblr](https://felikid.tumblr.com/). love ya! (feel free to hmu to ask questions or w/e! and you can see some of my incredible writing process, like the reason why this week's chapter ended much earlier than i wanted it too, lmao.
> 
> 1k chapters are alright, right? 
> 
> (maybe I'll update twice next week if I'm quick...)
> 
> art is the BIGGEST tattle-tale to ever exist. i do not want to know what sort things you can find out about me just from my writing. Probably that all my characters end up with some flavor of neurodivergence. I mean, you all noticed Namine's anxiety by now, but did you know I've been writing Neo to have RSD? That's why he reacts like that in the chapter where the data boys show up. 
> 
> RSD would make a lot of sense for Riku, too, now that I think about it. Just look at him in kh1! He thinks Sora abandoned him because Donald said something vaguely mean about him.


	20. neo-dadaism

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i realize now that neo-dadaism isn't just a fancy term for memes, it's also a pun within the context of this fic. Amazing. 
> 
> Did anybody miss my beautiful boys because I sure did. They had an established relationship tag in their own fic so.
> 
> o yea i also redid some chapter titles because i Did Not like them. rip

“No, I don’t know why his painting looks like that,” says Himoyachi, pinching his nose.

Together, Himoyachi, Neo, and the hidden Vanilla behold what is obviously a somewhat amateurish rendition of the Play Island. For some reason, the picture contains no round lines. Everything is square.

“I feel like my eyesight decreases just by looking at this,” Neo summarizes his many feelings toward the picture. He has at least three feelings toward this picture, and no clue what they are. Behind the typical palms, the painter put a red and black cube. Just a random cube.

“That’s a Blox Bug,” his not so identical companion informs him, “as you can guess from the name, it’s a type of bug.”

“Computer bug?” They do have that whole android thing going on, don’t they. The name plate _does_ say Taivas made this somehow. A regular giant block-shaped bug would be much more horrifying. He does not want to consider such an existence, and counts himself glad he’s never been inside a computer.

“Yup.” Himoyachi tilts his head up and smiles, obviously filled with enormous pride. Neo can relate a litte. He’s come_ extremely_ close to standing in front of Naminé’s piece and yelling, “My friend made that! LOOK AT IT!” at all passerby in the immediate area.

The prideful grin is soon replaced by a flustered grimace as the discussed artist materializes behind Himoyachi and clonks their heads together in what Neo suspects may be a kiss on the cheek, or a headbutt. By Himoyachi’s reaction, probably the former. Probably.

“Hiiiii, Himo!” Taivas says, “oh, and Neo. And Vanilla.” How nice of him. Neo almost forgot Vanilla is hiding in his backpack, if the little nuisance didn’t use his luxurious hair as a hiding spot like the world’s most alive scarf. For this purpose, Neo’s backpack remains opened and he hopes his other luggage won’t spill.

During obvious PDA Vanilla cringes at – Neo can feel the disgust radiating,– Naminé books it toward her oh so cruel friends, Terra in tow. Vanilla vanishes into the backpack, but not before muttering “_Why him.”_ Oh, lore?

Despite Neo’s wandering mind, only a few seconds have passed since the first person added himself to the group. Meaning Terra witnessed everything. Terra raises his hand to point, while pointing at nothing in particular. As if he doesn’t know what, exactly, he should point out first. That Sora and Riku are fifteen again somehow? Or the unbelievable reality in which they got over themselves and confessed?

Ever the social butterfly, Taivas sees Terra’s befuddlement once he finished lovingly gazing at his boyfriend in public. “Oh! I’m not Sora! The name’s Taivas.” He offers his hand to Terra. “But you may know me as Data-Sora?”

“Oh,” replies Terra and shakes Taivas’ hand, “that makes so much more sense.”

“Right? As if Sora and Riku ever had the guts to ask eachother out.” So everyone in the entire universe knows _except_ the concerned parties. To be expected.

And that explains that. One point remains, however. “Who’s Vanilla?”

Whatever smug expression Taivas held falls. “Ah.”

For reasons unknown to Terra, all other assorted persons each take a turn glaring at Taivas, until he waves his arms around and shouts, “It’s just a nickname for… Naminé! Because her hair’s yellow like vanilla flowers!”

Terra looks at Naminé. Naminé looks at Terra. “Is that right?” he asks.

“Yup! That’s right! I’m Vanilla!” she replies with more force than necessary. A bead of sweat forms on her brow.

He choses to accept this, because today is a good day. For now, anyways. “Alright.”

Somebody – Terra can’t make out who – snorts.

For even more reasons unknown to Terra, this mystery snort makes Taivas jump and jab Neo’s backpack. Today is a good day, and Terra decides this meant Neo snorted. Taivas clears his throat. “Ahem. I heard _somebody_ ask about my extraordinary amazing painting?”

Neo raises a hand. “That would be me. Why cube?”

“Simple!” Taivas snaps his fingers. “It’s Destiny Islands-”

“Yeah, we can see that.”

“- in 259 by 192 pixels!”

“What.” Crunchy.

Fitting the electrical theme, a lightbulb flashes before Himoyachi. He sighs. “Of course. That’s the resolution of the PC we were first installed on. That explains the bug, at least.”

The most recent arrival, Naminé, has not witnessed the thrilling cube questioning. Thus, she studies the painting, even putting a hand to her chin like a true art critic. Sure enough, not just the shapes are cubical, the colors are squished into squares as well, akin to pressing one’s face against their phone in the middle of the night. “I feel like this should qualify as cubism somehow.”

“Enough of that!” Neo proclaims with more zest than she’d expect of him, “We should look at something else. One thing’s still left.”

Hey, wait, no. How about No. How about Not doing that, because the one thing still left, that she guarantees all of them haven’t seen yet (or pretended not to), just so coincidentally by pure luck happens to be… the painting Naminé drew. That one.

Hhhhhhnrhg.

Terra leads her this time, as she lets out quiet noises of distress. He either doesn’t notice or choses to ignore this. Naminé regrets everything. _And_ those _traitors_ are conspicuously trailing behind.

With poise and sublety, Neo elbows Taivas right in the ribs and shoots a very communicative look in her and Terra’s direction. Are they giving her alone time so they can Have a Moment no wait come back. Can’t she hide Vanilla in her hair or something.

The three (or rather four, counting the backpack) back away. Something along the lines of “Oh no! I’m suddenly so busy!” leaves Taivas’ lips in the tone of somebody not sure how lying works.

Even worse, Neo joins in, “Yup, sure is a shame that we need to briefly not be here.” Considering how apt he is at lying to himself, this performance is just pitiful.

Too bad for Naminé. All that remains are her, Terra, and the weirdest painting she’s ever drawn.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next time we get the one conversation this entire arc exists for. Yeaaaaahhhh
> 
> also i skipped a week because i. slapped out 500 words in a day, decided "oh boy, 3am, i'll continue writing tomorrow", tried to write tomorrow, and got stuck on a transition. Never stop when you're in The Zone. Also i have school again despite Lockdown Light happening in November. We are now Legally Required to air out the rooms every 20 minutes and it's COLD.
> 
> yeehaw
> 
> fun fact: 259 by 192 pixels is the resolution of a DS screen :3 DS stands for Data-Sora now I make the rules.
> 
> I forgot to mention but!!!! next tuesday is the offical one year anniversary of tiarwc!!!!! I'll try to get a special something out by then~


	21. BONUS: one year anniversary

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> what is today??? the american election! What else is today? the tiarwc one year anniversary!! i even waited until it's the 3rd in america as well for you all, instead of posting at midnight like the horrible night owl i am.
> 
> have a break from the usual plot for nothing but pure fluff~
> 
> to clarify beforehand, this takes place post-canon! not just for kh, but also for this fic, which you'll notice due to one key difference~

It‘s a day like any other when the sound of singing rouses Vanitas from sleep.

“_Happy birthday to you…,” _he hears Naminé sing. He blinks once, twice, to rub the sand from his eyes. Whose birthday? What did he miss?

The mattress bends when Naminé plops down next to him. As he sits down, the door opens and Neo enters, though he holds both arms behind his back. Both of them are smiling so fondly, and Vanitas doesn’t understand.

“_Happy birthday to you…,” _Neo repeats in a deeper pitch. _Whose birthday is it?_

At the same time their voices ring in unison, Neo reveals a modest cake with soft yellow frosting, “_Happy birthday, dear Vanitas…,”_

Two candles burn bright and red; a sixteen. Oh.

“Happy birthday to you!”

There is a platter with cake on his lap. There are also three plates and forks on his nightstand already. When did that happen? He just woke up!

The flames flicker back and forth. “Explain,” Vanitas says.

Naminé scrunches her nose in a pretense of shock. “It’s your birthday! We made you a cake! Neo baked it, and I did the frosting.”

Though that explains the cake (and the suprisingly detailed illustratio of the three of them as bobbleheads), a fact remains. “It’s not my birthday.”

“Well, yeah.” Then, Neo sits next to him, too. Their thighs brush against each other, and Vanitas can’t find it in himself to be uncomfortable. “But you don’t know when your birthday is, so why not today?”

Vanitas’ lips curl. Up or down, he won’t decide. “It’s still not my birthday today. I’ve never even _had_ a birthday.” Or anyone to celebrate it with, for that matter.

Now Naminé scoots closer than she already is, and their shoulders touch. Her smile is as sunny as the color of her hair. “If it’s not your birthday, an anniversary at least? Come on, make a wish!”

He’s totally lost. What _is_ it about today that has them so worked up? Wisps of smoke drift upward from the melting wax, accompanied by the smell of… Of course. They’ll never let that go. “Vanilla, seriously?”

“You know you like iiiiit,” she sing-songs at him. She’s resting her head on his shoulder by this point. If he pushes her off, she’d likely ruin the cake. Vanitas has to admit, he _does_ like it.

In a predictable turn of events, Neo teams up against him as well. “It’s been a year since the adorable _little_ Vanilla joined our lives.” A head on his left shoulder and an elbow on his right.

Oh. OH! That’s what it was! “You remember the day you found me?” If they notice how his voice cracks despite fully formed vocal cords and a face to match, he’ll punt them to the ground, cake be damned.

“Obviously!” Naminé says like it’s the most natural thing in the world. _Obviously_ they remember. How could Vanitas forget? The day his life changed forever? When he thought he’d die alone in a cave, only to meet a crying girl and a shouting boy? How could he forget those days he spent as a mere Flood, scurrying along their feet, yet an equal by their side?

“It’s really been a year?”

“Yes, it has.” The elbow leaves his shoulder and a hand messes his bedhead up further. “Now make a wish before wax drips on the cake.”

He breathes in deep, so deep smoke draws toward him and makes his eyes water, and breathes out again. Both candles snuff out in the same second as Naminé and Neo clap.

“What did you wish for?” they ask, one slighty before the other, voices overlapping.

“Not telling!” Vanitas grins, all teeth as usual.

“Come onnn.” Something about hearing Naminé whine sets his heart aflutter. It’s been a year indeed.

The inciting plate of his favourite flavour soon soars anove his friends’ seated forms as he rises to full human height with it held aloft in his hands. “You each get one slice and I get the rest?”

“No fair!” Neo barks with no bite, so much softer than he used to. He collapses against the mattress with his Vanitas-shaped armrest gone. Such a long time a year can be. Ten pass in the blink of an eye, and just one changes everything.

Because the total brat is taller than Vanitas thanks to magic genetics, Neo leaps off the bed and wraps two arms around Vanitas’ waist. In a spin, Vanitas is off the ground, Naminé tumbles to the floor after getting tangled in his blanket, and cries “Watch out for the cake!”

That call is quickly heeded when Vanitas threatens to throw the cake at Neo’s face, like the clown he is.

* * *

A little bit later, the birthday boy, now sixteen (and isn’t it wonderful they remembered his age when he only told them once?) cuts the vanilla-flavoured cake in three slices of at least _similar_ size with his own two hands.

The celebration includes no one but the three of them, just how he prefers it. The cake is to his liking, and together they play his favourite games, at which he beats everyone with one or two or three or thirteen exceptions.

It tastes so sweet on his tongue. Vanitas’ thoughts turn to the yellow icing he licks from his fingers. _So that’s what the power of friendship can bring you._

For the first time in perhaps his entire life, Vanitas is glad another year has passed with him still in it.

_I wish this could last forever._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> HAPPY ONE YEAR!!! Whether you found this fic today or were here from the start, thank you so much! Every time I'm baffled how much this little thing has blown up. It's the longest running project i've ever had and actively worked on, art or writing or otherwise.
> 
> Every single comment means the world to me. I'm so happy whenever someone says I've made their day, or cheered them up, and it makes my day as well. Especially in times like these, it's always important to keep some cheer in our lives, isn't it? 
> 
> I hope you'll continue sticking with me through this meandering story of friendship and growth through a mundane day to day~ I know I'm not dropping this anytime soon, especially since I've finally gotten the ball rolling again~
> 
> Hopefully you all enjoyed this little look into what i imagine this wonderful trio looks like by the time this story is done~
> 
> see you on sunday! or next week, depends how quick i am, heh.


	22. look closer. nope, not that close. dont lick the artwork, please.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> god i love being european i live in CEST/GMT +1 and yall are like GMT -7 (except my min. two german readers love ya two i apologize) so i can post at 2am and not be late. if you kno german the last chapter's comments section has some Exclusive Beans on Stuff. Ich liebe Geheimnisse, und gemein sein :3c
> 
> this chapter litcherally had its first draft written before ANYTHING else in this entire arc except one half was written in indirect dialogue only and the other was in dialogue only format so. Brain thinks "won't take long, can procrastinate :)" except there is a lot to do.

It’s dark, yet light. A harsh, bright landscape blinds Terra. The shadows, black as a starless sky, curl deep around rock and stone, vivisecting the painting like a Keyblade to Heartless. It’s not soft like every other painting he has seen in the gallery today. The longer he looks, the less empty it becomes. Negative space unravles into birds between cloud and dust, shadows twist into creatures cast upon the ground, all revolving around a distant shape on the horizon.

It steals Terra’s breath away. Somehow, he recognizes these depictions. So lifeless, but brimming with movement. So dark, but so light. Separate, but balanced. Perfect twilight.

Out of the corner of his eye, Naminé twirls her hair around her finger, face hidden behind a blonde curtain. Only a faint dusting of red to be seen, as if…

“There’s nothing to be ashamed of,” he says.

She shrinks together, tugs at her hair. “It’s not weird?”

Never. “No. It’s beautiful.”

Even so, those shadows of monsters ring so very familiar, together with that small figure and the desert landscape. Something he has seen before. “Is that the Keyblade Graveyard?”

“You noticed.” That he did. Neither of them had ever seen a place more desolate. In a way,- a weird twisted way, neither of them were entirely themselves during,- it is the place of their first meeting. “I didn’t think about the setting, not really. It just fit.”

“Is that why you wanted me to see it?” Because, no matter how she shied around it, Naminé does want Terra to see her work. Why else even tell him about the exhibit at all? Why else invite him? Because, really, what she dreaded is not Terra _seeing_ her painting. She dreaded Terra _hating it._

Terra ruffles her hair, a habit from another blond child he views much like a younger sibling. “I’m glad you showed me. I love it.”

“Really?” Man. When her voice raises in question at the tail end of that single word, Terra wants to give her the world. Give her all worlds. Give her everything she ever wants, if only for a chance for the sweetest tiny girl Terra’s ever met to be happy.

“Yes, really. The way you avoided it, I thought you were mad at me.” 

Naminé brushes her hair back into place with one hand. “I thought you’d dislike it.”

“That’s impossible and you know it.” He faces it again, drinking in every single detail. What else can he do to portray the full extent of his emotion? Emotion she helped him reclaim?

Hm, what’s that? In his brotherly affections, the déjà vu blaring in his mind clears up. “Are those Unversed?”

The shadow creatures are what he means, Naminé guesses. “Un-what?”

“Unversed.” Terra points at a little fleck shaped a _lot_ like Vanilla. “Creatures of darkness from a boy named Vanitas.”

Huh. So that’s what Vanilla is. Vanitas, Vanilla, funny little coincidence. 

“How did you draw them if you didn’t know what they are?”

Huuuuuuh. How  _did_ that happen. She has some Vanillas in there, definetly, but also…. Other things. Like green things with long fingers, for example. And before, too, Naminé likes to doodle them a lot…  Like the one that’s a whole one-man orchestra. She likes that one.

“I saw them in a dream, I think,” she says, because it’s as close to the truth as anything else. “Somebody’s memories, maybe.” Could be Terra’s even. Sometimes Naminé dreams about things without a clear view and gets to play the fun little game of “_Now whose damn trauma was that?!”_

There is a lighter side to her inspiration, though. “A friend also inspired it!” Keeping said friend’s identity vague so Terra can guess for himself and be wrong about it. “See all that dark paint? He spilled it on my canvas!” 

“It’s wonderful something this beautiful can come of an accident. I’m sure you’ll win.” Along with the lighter topic, the mood lightens as well. Naminé’s glee rings infectious and seeps into Terra’s words.

“The others are pretty good, too,” Naminé, the ever humble, replies.

“Not to knock the others down,” Terra says in a sentence that will knock the others down, ”but your skill is beyond anything here.”

“Thank you,” she accepts the compliment for once in her life, and Terra’s heart doesn’t melt – he would like to keep his heart in one piece, thanks,- but it comes pretty close. Nobody can or _should_ dislike Naminé. Except maybe Terra’s…

yeah.

Unfortunately for him, Naminé notices his dour expression. “Is something wrong?”

“Just thinking about the past.”

They stand in silence, for a while. Despite the various people mulling about around them, some even talking about Naminé’s painting right beside them, it’s quiet.

Having caused whatever mood this is, Terra breaks the blanket of still, “You’ll be a fine Keybearer one day. I’m sure of it..”

In return, Naminé does not compute. “I haven’t been bequeathed?”

Terra chuckles, in an older brother “I know so  much more than you” kind of way. “With how often your heart touched those of wielders? You don’t need to be.”

“You mean I….?”

“You have the potential. When you need it, it will be there.”

She wants to say more, so much more-  _How?_ Naminé,  _Naminé_ , is worthy of a Key? But a chime echoes over the intercom, followed by the announcer’s voice. “Dear visitors! A friendly reminder to all that voting will end in fifteen minutes. Please cast your votes now, if you haven’t already!”

Terra places a foot in front of the other for the first time in some minutes, and Naminé shuts her mouth along with her questions. “That’s my cue,” Terra says, “every vote counts, after all.”

Luckily, they beat the crowd to the ballot box. Both write their favourites, cast the little paper slips into the lavishly decorated cardboard box, and are stamped on the hand to prevent voter fraud. Naminé isn’t conceited enough to vote for herself, yet she has an inkling which box Terra ticked.

Even so, Naminé thinks, about herself, about her art, about her friends, and about nothing at all.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> yes this chapter will be on the test *swinging my plot plans like a bat*
> 
> my birthday was last friday (friday the 13th babeyyy) and i got hades for switch and it's so addicting good lord. I got to the final boss's phase 2 already and it's been litcherally three days. 
> 
> if any of yall read any of my other fanfic should i continue fellow godslayers or history makes the record stutter next because i should continue both of those but cant decide which of my children i love more (despite the answer obviously being tiarwc)
> 
> also i can post at 2am it's fine i'm like, actually quarantined atm. Not in the national lockdown sense, but in the letter from the health ministry sense. It's fine i didn't have direct contact w the guy. i just have more time to play hades now.
> 
> i dont have a good grasp on terra at alllllll, i think axel is easier. yes there will be axel at some point. sometimes while writing i'll periodically watch a bbs cutscene with terra in it.
> 
> edit: i feel like the chapter title is what The Boys are doing in the meantime


	23. you're at the party and you're not alone

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> yes i listen to lemon demon sometimes. yes the chapter title uses the line in a completely different context. I'm the author and I get to choose the song lyrics.
> 
> writing this i was just smiling the entire time because gosh.
> 
> shoutout to me for almost forgetting the most vital part of the editing process: putting the accent on Namine's name. I barely edit these chapters after writing them anyways, because otherwise they'd take thrice as long because i can't give the horrible perfectionist inside my head time to let the shame set in. Outspeed your self doubt. Gotta go fast
> 
> i also turned on german autocorrect by accident and the word suggestions?? pure comedy. the document is set to english, bud.
> 
> taeko is so much fun to write. also shoutout to khocweek for making me give Ai an actual design. iconic (you can see my entries [under the tag on my writing blog](https://hyper-juice.tumblr.com/tagged/khocweek2020) bcuz the good boys.odt extended universe grows by the day. Next year I'm gonna hit yall with the extensive hcs i have for sora's moms. One day I'll write a fic about Himiko Hoshikawa...... one day......)

It’s time for things to happen, as it always is in any world with time in it, which is all of them. It relentlessly marches onward, whether you want it to or not.

As such, thirty minutes after the last occurrence worthy of description, the new relevant situation will be described as the following:

Naminé is freaking out so much, her mind loops right back around to elevator music. Neo and the others have since joined her and Terra in the crowd. In retrospect, Naminé’s anger at being left to meaningful conversation dissipates. The only thing worse than meaningful conversation is meaningful conversation with an audience.

Apparently Taivas almost licked a painting, citing “No one ever told me paint was _poisonous!” _and thus raising many interesting questions about both his painting process and anatomy.

Regardless of the exact status of Taivas’ organs, the announcer, whose name Naminé finally remembers being Taeko, waltzes into the middle of the room with the confidence of someone who is _very_ aware they’re the center of attention.

Taeko also hides the key to Naminé’s hopes and dreams.

An entire two hands pat Naminé on the shoulder,- though not the same one,- as her best friend and her pseudo-brother both share one braincell when it comes to cherishing Naminé. She feels very cherished and her elevator brain descends one floor closer to average levels.

“Ladies, gentlemen, and those who freed themselves from the societal construct referred to as gender!” Taeko announces with a literal flourish, spinning her mic, “All votes have been tallied, all fates are decided! I may remind you that all works here are for sale at a later auction, and proceeds will directly benefit the school. The top three contestants will receive a 500 munny coupon for the school kiosk, and their art will be displayed in the entrance hall.”

Which is to say, the reward is basically nothing except fame and glory. High school glory. So no glory.

No matter the fame, fortune, or other such things not available to high schoolers, Naminé experienced an emotion as common as flies in your biodegradable trash: anticipation. Her hands card through her hair, and Taeko continues, “It is time to announce our third place winner! In a surprising turn of events, the most beautiful portrait ever drawn, according to my own non-biased opinion, scored third place! Congratulation to my lovely Ai!”

Everyone claps, in the polite way people always do when anything of significance happens, thus delaying all proceedings for an entire minute and also creating a lot of noise. Despite all this, Ai, a girl with long brown hair, glasses, and a green hoodie, saunters into the middle of the room. The gym has no podium, because dragging it in and out again is too much of a bother.

“So, dear Ai,” Taeko says, “what do you have to say to this completely unbiased success that did not involve support from the prettiest announcer in the known universe?” and offers the mic to Ai.

Ai, however, walks past the mic and gives Taeko a kiss on the cheek. Taeko blushes. “How devilish!”

“I’ll take that coupon, thanks,” is all Ai says before she bows out and leaves. Her lax attitude baffles and inspires Naminé in equal measures.

“Well then!” the flustered announcer perks back up, ”let’s move on to our second place winner!” Taeko walks around the room, casting a glance at each and every painting, until landing on a spot Naminé recognized. The crowd parted to allow view to all. “With a rather _unique_ take on our beloved islands, this cubical piece has captured the hearts of the audience! Taivas, please come forward!”

Before the rest of the audience had a chance to react, Himoyachi slapped his hands together rather than clapped. Others followed suit, though with much less fervor.

Taivas bounces over to his artistic creation, almost vibrating into another dimension.

Taeko once again holds out her microphone. “Do you have any words for the audience?”

He breathes in deep, and screams. Some poor tech lowers the volume on the speakers, but not until the audio crackles from excitement. “Thank you to the cube-shaped nightmares that still haunt my dreams!! And thank you to my best boyfriend! And the low-poly hellscape I escaped through the power of E-Mails!!!” He raises a fist into the air, hollers once again, and flies off immediately after finishing his heartfelt speech. Flying off into Himoyachi’s arms, that is.

“Alright!” replies Taeko, who did not expect any of this when she agreed to be announcer. Naminé, in an effort to save the situation, claps again. The audience follows, and all eyes slowly slide off Taivas, still about to implode.

“Let us… proceed! To the first place winner! The one we have all been waiting for!” For a moment, Naminé relates to a person so far in personality from her. Who knew extroverts also experience awkwardness sometimes? With Naminé’s frame of reference, such a feat appeared impossible.

Taeko clears her throat, and resumes her stride, skirt rustling with every step. The crowd watches with bated breath as she completes her first lap.

“The support for this piece blew everything out of the water with an overwhelming majority!” She passes the paper abomination of her own club with nary a glance. Naminé’s hope flutters on butterfly wings.

“Adventurous,” another painting ignored, “unexpected,” and another, “so different in tone and style from all else present here,” another and another and another.

She spins and spins on her tip-toes, and spins and spins the other way to untangle the mic’s cable. She stops along with Naminé’s breath. Everyone beside her,- Neo and Terra and Taivas and Himoyachi and Vanilla tentatively peeking out of Neo’s backpack,- has their eyes glued to the front.

Taeko stops, in front of Naminé. “Congratulations, Naminé! With unseen style and heaps of skill, your melancholic piece captivates mind and heart alike!”

This isn’t happening. No way, no way, okay? This is- all eyes on Naminé, not to scorn or scoff, but to adore and laud.

Her elevator thoughts shoot off into the stratosphere and Terra taps her on the shoulder again. “Go on, you deserve it,” he nods at her.

This is really happening. “I won?”

“Why, of course! Why else would I tell you so if I did not mean it?”

“Even with, even with how.. different it is?” From everything else? How _melancholic, _as Taeko put it?

“That is _exactly why_ it won, dear! How can we _not_ notice something so bold amidst our humble collection? Why, it leaves _quite_ the impression!”

Haaah, breathe in, one two three four, hold in, one two three, breathe out, one two three four.

The mic presents itself to her, asking her for words. Naminé has plenty. “Thank you so much to everyone who voted for me! I’m just… in disbelief, at how much support I’ve received. I’ve looked forward to this exhibition for so longl to finally show something not just to my best friends, but to so many others. Thank you, each and every one of you.”

Gratitude and relief and joy all blubber out of her mouth and onto the canvas that is the ears of the audience. It paints itself onto the faces of her friends, all smiling so warmly, so kindly, at her and _with _her, and even Vanilla manages to hold out his phone and display a thumbs-up emoji, with a chuckle from Neo amidst the chattering crowd.

“I’d like to especially thank my friend, who inspired this painting after a little accident with blue paint. Thank you, to you and to Neo, for dŕagging me out of the hole I was stuck in, striving for perfection, when feelings instead of sense were more than enough.”

That is all her mind permits her to say, words leaping out only due to the excitement floating through the room and taking root in her veins, spreading through her heart to every inch of her being.

And that is all she has to say. Two mouths holler and two arms hug and one small, fuzzy hand risks a stolen touch to the hair amidst so, so many, some of which not here beside her but in the room nonetheless, cheering nonetheless.

The sound of hands cheering along with voices becomes a cacophony of sound Naminé can barely stand, as higher thought bids her adieu and only the physical support of her friends keeps her standing on two feet.

Naminé smiles, filled with pride.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ykno, namine is a character deeply filled with shame from her past and what she has been forced to do, so it sinks into the rest of what she _chooses_ to do, and maybe it'll be bad again, so she just feels the shame upfront instead. Which is why I think it's important to emphasize her _pride_ in the chapter's last line, because being proud of herself is just so foreign. 
> 
> sometimes i think i write everyone being too physically affectionate and then i remember all these kids are probably touch-starved so screw it. Two of em lived in a horrible controlling environment most their lives, two of them never experienced physical warmth until a couple months ago, one of them was off being a non-physical being controlled by the most evil man in the universe for a decade, and the last one had to put up with said evil man's parenting skills for all his life, so. Those kids need all the physical affection they can get, and by god i am going to give it to them.
> 
> Am i ever going to stop writing in Taivas and Himoyachi being affectionate boyfriends? No. They have been established relationship ever since this extended fic universe started and they live in my head rent-free. (Does anyone want a re:mind based prequel to AI stands for Adventure Incoming where I detail why they decided to break out of the data world? I have half a draft for that. I could make it. A full draft.)
> 
> Next time, the final wrap on the art arc! This, sadly, marks the last planned appearance of Terra, whom I still find very difficult to write for some reason.


	24. walk off into the sunset

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> IT'S DONEEEEE. ARGH. i got stuck on how to start this again. this is offically the end of the art arc!! last planned appearance of terra. he might cameo in the birthday arc i dunno.
> 
> i've been writing this chapter all day trying to stitch my draft together and my brain is melting
> 
> i realized i wanted more filler so have more filler. fun fact: my notes for this say "brown eyes terra propaganda" so that's something. terra has brown eyes pass it on
> 
> IMPORTANT EDIT: SALTHAT IS BAAAAACK!!! and he has made more art of my ocs which i hopelessly adore. please look at the them.
> 
> [more hibiki and ai sketches!!](https://hyper-juice.tumblr.com/post/636926104100372480) [watercolors!!](https://hyper-juice.tumblr.com/post/636966106967457792) [the film club ocs!! only one of which has actually appeared in tiarwc!!](https://hyper-juice.tumblr.com/post/637420739838066688)

After the most stunning artistic victory to grace Destiny Islands, the group all buy a pasrty from some student, the second-place winner, in fact, for a frankly ridiculous price, because what is a school festival without overpriced cake. It’s all for a good cause, surely. Like maybe fixing the broken faucet in the bathroom, or getting rid of that mold. Or some other sanitary renovations, ever since there had been an announcement to “please don’t drink the tap water” after somebody got lead poisoning.

Either way, the group of one human, one Nobody, one Replica, two androids, and probably one Unversed are seated on some big stones outside the school and the general havoc of everyone trying to leave the building at once. Naminé’s brownie is both too expensive for a brownie and supremely delicious.

She finishes it all to quickly, since it is a singular brownie. She bought two, but the other one is being torn apart in Neo’s backpack. He will wash it later and be vaguely angry until remembering that he permitted it those crumbs. Vanilla will also not apologize in the slightest, but still watch Neo use a washing machine. He likes watching them swirl.

The sun starts to set upon the little picnic. When the orange light paints Terra’s eyes an even warmer shade of brown, he clears his throat of apple pie and says, simply, “It’s getting late,” as if no one can tell thought the palette shift.

“I guess it is,” Naminé replies in generic affirmation.

Terra leaves the rock. He wipes his hands on his hakama, which means he won’t be the only one using a washing machine tonight. Does the Land of Departure have washing machines? Most worlds don’t have technology, so…?

“I think it’s time for me to get going,” he says, looking directly into the sunset. Terra very subtly squints.

Naminé also stands up, and wipes her hands on the tissue she got with her brownie. It’s only polite.

“Thank you for coming today,” she says, for lack of better words. Really, how can she summarize her feelings in words at all? That deep well of thankfullness growing deeper every day, with every kind gesture others offer her, no matter how small.

Maybe she can show it in gestures instead. When Terra offers a handshake, she tries to throw her arms over his shoulder, despite disparities in height. Terra leans down and lets her.

“Thank you for letting me come,” he replies.

The hug ends, and more handshakes and friendly pats are exchanged between the other people here, with it taking a bit of time for the sheer number of people all saying goodbye to one another. It’s a wonderful scene, quickly followed by the realization that all of them need to walk off into the sunset… in the same direction.

* * *

After a long successfull day of being a productive human being, Neo decides that they should have a celebratory sleepover. It‘s not the first occasion where this has happened, but it‘s the first where _three_ participated instead of two, excluding interuptions by annoying older siblings.

They sit on the fluffy not paint-stained carpet, as is customary whenever they want to avoid brawls over the beanbag. Naminé’s fingers wrap around a small console.

“Your very own legend is about to unfold,” Neo reads from the tiny sceen, trying (and failing) to supress his anticipation.

“A world of dreams and adventures awaits,” Vanilla continues, and Naminé wonders how they managed to rope her into trying out video games.

‘It’ll be fun,’ they said. ‘You might find some inspiration,’ they said. Regardless of those factors, Naminé is plain weak for puppy eyes

.

* * *

Some time later, Naminé’s heart falls together with her monster’s health bar. “That rock is bullying my lizard…”

Her lizard beat everything so far! Why is a rock with arms so strong?

“You have a fire lizard. It’s weak to rocks,” Vanilla explains, mildly upset as Naminé’s character blacks out for some reason. Naminé named the lizard Vanilla, which has nothing to do with this.

“That’s why I picked the frog,” Neo says.

“ Right. Bungus. Bungus, who was destroyed by a dumb orange dragon.” Neo aggressively pets Vanilla, but not  _ too _ aggressively, since said tiny traitor  _ is _ perched on Naminé’s shoulder. It’s the closest to a noogie he can get.

Naminé shakes her console up and down, as if it would help her waking character. “Nooo, what do I do??”

“Catch something else, maybe?” Balance your team? Since you only have-,” Neo peers at her team constellation. It’s not stellar, “-one.”

“But isn’t Vanilla enough?”

“No.”

Then, Vanilla promptly tackles Neo and is caught mid-air.

“That’s why she named the rival after you!” He hisses. Admittedly, seeing a tiny sprite being mean out of jealousy named Repliku was a little therapeutic. And pretty hilarious. What can he say, when the oversized shoe fits, it fits?

Silent as ever, Naminé’s character walks back into the forest. The grass rustles, followed by the encounter theme’s fanfare.

“A yellow mouse!” A pudgy yellow mouse appears and the digital Vanilla scratches at it. In return, the mouse casts a spell.

“A wizard mouse! It knows thunder!” Oh-ing and Ah-ing ensues from Naminé, met with amusement from Neo and mild brooding from Vanilla.

“So Fire doesn’t cut it?”

“Try to Fire a rock and then we’ll see. Also you’re jealous of a digital mouse.” Pat-pat goes Neo’s palm and Vanilla maybe realizes he’s being ridiculous. Begrudgingly, he accepts the physical affection.

While the boys squabbled, Naminé catches the wizard-mouse and names it after the first mouse that crosses her mind. A team made of Vanilla and Mickey is sure to have success.

Together with Mickey, the cap-bearing protagonist returns to face his enemy, the rock specialist. Brave, thunder-casting Mickey  _ somehow _ defeats the literally armed rock, which is how Naminé discovers that a) rocks are immune to thunder? (“no, it’s also ground, ground is immune to electric,” Neo says) and b) critical hits are a thing, and they are  _ very _ useful.

Sadly, Mickey falls prey to a boulder snake. She sends in Vanilla. The real Vanilla feels viscerally satisfied at this development.

As lizard Vanilla roars fire, the snake reacts strangely. “What’s that? The snake is on fire!”

Certified gming export Neo elucidates, “It’s burned. It’ll take damage every turn.”

“And it’s physical attack is halved,” self-proclaimed gaming master Vanilla adds, smug after his counterpart’s triumph.

“Know-it.all.”

“Wannabe.”

“I did it!” Naminé’s yelp interrupts their stare-off. The snake succumbed to its burn when they weren’t looking. “I got the badge!”

Neo offers a fist. After a second of contemplation, Naminé returns the fist-bump. Vanilla tries to join, but overbalances and falls from Naminé’s shoulder. She places him back.

* * *

Late at night, when the moon casts its pale light through the curtains, two figures lay awake. One on her bed, the other on a futon, and the smallest sleeping one curled away in a puddle of blankets.

Neo‘s eyes droop shut and his limbs grow heavy, yet his daze is rudely interrupted when Naminé shakes him awake.

“Terra told me something today,” she whispers with a glance at their only sleeping friend.

Sand already gathered in his eyes, so Neo sits up and rubs it out. “Hwah? What is it?”

“I…,” she breathes in deep, the light lending a silver sheen to her features. “I know what Vanilla is. He’s an Unversed.”

This tells Neo nothing. “And what are those?”

Thankfully, Naminé elaborates, “Creatures created by a boy named Vanitas. Darkness, by the sound of it.”

Now there’s a name he can place. “I think I’ve seen him. At the Keyblade Graveyard, I mean. When I took myself out.” Which had been a plenty weird experience. “He didn’t seem the most pleasant, to put it nicely.”

“You know what that means?”

“That Vanitas is alive when everyone thinks he’s dead?” Vanitas had been the least of their problems that day. “So what? I don’t think he’ll try anything with Xehanort dead."

“I just don’t know.” Both of them watch the slow rise and fall of Vanilla’s chest. “Do we ask Vanilla about him?”

“Better not. It’s like he’s allergic to talking about his past.” Neo can admit that he’s not too fond of the past, either. “We don’t even know his real name, remember?"

Naminé laughs a little at the reminder. That had been an event and a half. Sometimes she still finds spilled sugar in the crevices of her kitchen. “I guess. I trust him thugh. He’d tell us if Vanitas is still dangerous, right?”

“I hope so.” They can’t tell anyone this information, which might bite them later. It’s too risky. Neo crosses his arms and leans back on his propped up pillow. “If this blows up in our faces, I warned you from the beginning.”

“Oh?” Naminé had many teachers in the art of the smug grin, but none as good as Neo himself. “Didn’t those warnings taper off pretty quickly? Like the very night a certain someone helped me smuggle him home?”

Neo flusters. “Shuut uuup. So I like him too. Fine.” He gestures vaguely around the darkness. “This doesn’t have to change anything.”

Naminé falls back on her bed. “I’m worried. If Vanilla never mentioned this Vanitas, despite apparently coming from him…,” she pauses, facing the ceiling, “Did he defect?”

“We defected,” Neo states like the fact it is, “Why shouldn’t he?”

“_Can_ Unversed defect?” Vanilla does not look the part of whatever a “higher” Unversed may be, and if they work anything like Heartless, especially considering they have a set leader…

The thought discomforts Neo, itching to his bones. “You worry too much. At the end of the day, he’s your friend.”

“_Our _friend.”

“Yeah.” He pulls the blanket back over his shoulders. “It’s late. Goodnight, Naminé.”

Naminé also settles back onto her pillow. “Goodnight, Neo.” The blankets to her feet shift. “Goodnight, Vanilla.”

Vanitas twitches, and dreams.

* * *

“_Darkness can hide anywhere,” he tells us and I know he means me._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> the last convo was the other thing i needed to happen for MUCH later but drafting in drama format is. 
> 
> writing was just *tricks my gunvolt fixation into letting me play pokemon with mons named after gunvolt characters* *tricks my pokemon fixation into letting me write this by writing about characters playing pokemon*
> 
> i also did a whole bunch of other stuff in this time so! that's something. 
> 
> i've also begun compiling everything i have for the next arc!! it's already around 1k, but again, scattered. At SOME point I'll have a full chapter in advance. I dont know WHEN, but. at some point i will.
> 
> also yes there was some water poisoning at my school once. do not drink the tap water you will get a stomachache.


	25. the early bird catches breakfast

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> new arc new arc let's gooooooo
> 
> i wanted to do an interlude bonus thingy first but got stuck on it kinda and this spawned.
> 
> yeah i've been gone a month, what of it.
> 
> i present to you: more magic hcs, bcuz i spend entirely too much time thinking about them.
> 
> edit: i've retconned the dog thing into a cat thing because i'm rlly just a fucking fool aren't i. why did i- this fic has cat in the title for fuck's sake why am i so dumb??? yes this warrants the fuck word.it's rated t who gives a shit

When Neo wakes up that morning, he is ready. He jumps out of bed and grabs the styrofoam bat next to his dresser,- already dug out of the closet yesterday evening. Raring to go is his dispostion, until he recalls he just woke up, and thus still wears his pajamas.

After a successful morning routine of changing clothes, brushing his teeth, and eating a hearty breakfast, he dashes out the door and forgets his bat. He dashes back in, much to the suprise of Riku, who nearly drops his leftover bowl of soup from yesterday at the grey blur. Said grey blur flies back down the stairs and walks out the house like a regular person. 

“Bye?” says Riku, still half-asleep. 

“I’ll be back in the evening!” is all Neo gives in way of explanation.

First stop, he rings the bell at Kairi’s house. Kairi opens the door in pajamas because it is half past six in the AMs. “Are-” cut cut full stop! “Is-” better, “Naminé awake yet?”

“Oh?” Kairi yawns. “Sure. Wanna come in? I’ll get her.”

Neo, filled to the brim with energy, toes off his heavy shoes in seconds. A breeze rustles Kairi’s bedhead as her guest, as fast as can possibly be construed as polite, makes for Naminé’s room without her. Alrighty then, back to sleep she goes!

In the meantime, something inside Naminé’s bones compels her to wake muuuuch earlier than she’d prefer to, especially with Vanilla pressing on her chest. It’s Saturday, so he’s sleeping at her house. Neo gets him tomorrow. They have a system. Regardless, she rises from fantastically soft covers and squints at sunlight streaming through the curtains. A hit on her alarm, and it shines seven o’clock at her. Who gets up at seven?

Oh yeah, Neo.

“Naminé! Are you ready yet?” Her door slams open, and she sits up so quickly she launches Vanilla across her bed. He grumbles and stretches.

“I thought we leave at nine?”

“Well, yeah,” Neo replies, not elaborating on the fact that it’s seven in the morning. “I thought you’d need time to get ready?” 

“Just admit you’re overexcited,” Vanilla pipes up. Like a very large dog, he thinks but refrained from saying, because he’d be met with a “No way!” from the other, metaphorical tail wagging at the speed of light.

“Uuuuughrrr,” gurgles early morning Naminé, acting a bit more like her Dusk-y brethren than usual. As long as her limbs keep to the correct number of joints, she can gurgle all she wants, but Neo will get her out of bed or die trying.

In the end, he doesn’t need to try very hard, since Naminé throws the covers away, thus burying Vanilla beneath them, and slumps away to the bathroom.

Some time after Neo commandeered Kairi’s kitchen to prepare packed lunchboxes with little sausages cut in the shape of squids,- he had too much time after the comb caught on some tangles in Naminé’s epic quest to brush her hair,- everyone is probably ready.

“Bats?” Naminé calls.

“Ready to struggle,” Neo calls back, proudly presenting the styrofoam strapped to his backpack.

“Lunch?”

“Ready.”

“Gummiphones?”

“Charged to full.”

“Vanilla?”

“Hey!” Vanilla pops out of the backpack. “If you dare forget me, I’m going to sink this entire island in everlasting darkness!”

“Sure thing, buddy.” The ensuing pat from Naminé only leads to more indignant squawking.

Some more time later (which involved more check-ins from Kairi and lenghthy vows to call her or Riku if there’s any trouble), the trio boards a gummiship they borrowed from Kairi. Previously, she used it to commute to and from Merlin’s place. During her training, she stayed in whatever pocket dimension he conjured up, but between training, no one could predict where exactly Merlin’s house would pop up next.

It’s a nice and calm bright eye-searing blue. Supposedly, this color blends in with the ocean waves. In practice, Naminé would like a stern word with whoever designed it. Also in practice, it’s the only thing they’ve got, so all of them shut up after obligatory nagging and board.

The doors hiss and open inward. The stale air breathes cool on warm skin, blissfully air-conditioned against tropical temperatures. 

The seats have heating and air-conditioning. What more could one ever need? The seats also present a lesser afront to good taste, fitting neatly within a (not eye-searing) blue and white color scheme with several pink adornments, such as a pair of fluffy puffs hanging from the rearview mirror. 

Naminé bats at it when she sits down in the driver’s seat, to scientifically confirm the fluffyness, which is very. The honored role of driver falls on Naminé, for the reason that she possesses not just two hands, but the least amount of road rage, substitued by panic whenever an astroid breathes in her direction. 

She knows how to drive, it’s fine. It’s totally fine. On an unrelated note, the engineers at Disney Castle really stepped it up with their newest generation of autopiloting software. The thing can almost drive the ship by itself! Detects nearby threats, automatically deploys weapons against heartless.. Totally unrelated facts to the situation at hand.

The key, quite heavy from the sheer amount of keychains, brings the engine to life. It does not purr like a kitten, instead whirring, more like some sort of… non-animal. More like Taivas rebooting after hitting his head against a wall.

After an elegant take-off, Naminé, Neo, and Vanitas enter the first stage of any car-slash-spacecraft drive-slash-flight: that lovely sliver of time where no one wants to be the first to speak.

Behind Naminé, to the left, sits Neo, cross-legged. To the right, Vanilla mirroring him, despite his seatbelt hanging loose around him. This preceeds realizing that Vanilla is shorter than Donald Duck.

Said shortie melts into his seat. The seatbelt cannot stop him from sliding so far forward his feet skim the floor, which is very far indeed. Somehow, Vanilla manages to exude such a massive aura of crabbiness in the polar opposite of Neo’s fidgeting, his usual perpetual yet fond annoyance does not come close. The sheer drama of every exhaled sigh overtoned the droning engine itself.

It’s on brand, but also, in a way she can’t explain, not. Something must be bothering him. “Is something wrong?” Naminé asks.

“’s nothing,” Vanilla grumbles, said thing obviously being not nothing, “I didn’t sleep well. Whatever. It’s just a dumb book.”

What book? “What book?”

He slumps further in his seat until he doesn’t use the backrest at all. The seatbelt lets him. “The one you lent me, duh.”

“You got nightmares from a history book?” Neo uncrosses his legs and sits straighter.

“I didn’t get nightmares!” Vanilla sneers, “It just reminded me of something!”

“Oh, I’ve read that book before.” She recalls that The hidden history of Dandelions, half dry text and half sources, had a few… distinct passages. “The primary sources are a bit intense.”

Neo raises an eyebrow. “Intense how?”

“’Dear Diary, all my friends are dead’ kind of intense.”

“Ouch.”

“Yeah.”

Through the rearview mirror, Naminé and Neo share a concerned stare at Vanilla continuing to liquify. This will be talked about later. If that reminds him of his past, it must be one hell of one. However, pushing him would agitate him, and now’s not exactly the best time for impromptu therapy.

Silence falls once again, and Vanilla refuses to elaborate on whatever totally-not-nightmares he may or may not have had. 

“On a brighter note,” Naminé pipes up, “you remember the magic I did at the mall?”

“You’ll do it again?” Contrary to his downer demeanor, a hopeful note enters Vanilla’s voice.

“You likely won’t be able to talk in public, but you can go out with us!” Just imagining it makes her giddy. Vanilla, present in public, with everyone none the wiser. 

That same thought evidently lifts Vanilla’s spirits as well. The previous melting melodrama in Vanilla gives way to the same bouncing excitement with which Neo has been aggressively tapping on his armrest for the past ten minutes.

“If you want to talk, we can always go somewhere private or fake a phone call. Or something,” Neo adds. His stare out the window is met with the approaching sight of twilight from a distant star, illuminating the cartoonishly huge clocktower. Just when he wanted to ask are we there yet like anyone on a roadtrip ought to.

The clocktower remains freakishly tall in their sights when Naminé steers their suddenly not subtle bright blue ship toward the woods. Luckily rumors put in the legwork themselves after a year long starting help, and no one besides dimensional travelers likes the haunted mansion. Naminé would know, since she’s the one who used to haunt it!

Many a place with a spooky reputation warning all to stay away hides a hub of world travel. Or, world travelers repurpose them. Or rumors of aliens and ghosts and whatnot start because of world travelers.

Neo fumbles for his seatbelt before they even land, and Vanilla opts to slide out under it instead of gracing the latch with his claws. Naminé, as the driver, calmly and slowly and perfectly with no three other attempts after lands the ship calmly and slowly and perfectly in its designated spot.

“Do your magic, oh master magician.” Vanilla waits in front of the door.

“Sure thing!”

Now, people typically think illusion magic is cast on the object and/or person whose appearance is being altered. This is a popular misconception and also false. An illusion does not alter objects and/or people. An illusion alters how others perceive the object and/or person. Thus, the intensity of an illusory spell rises not only with complexity, but also with the amount of people viewing the illusion. 

Therefore, casting one in public, minor though it may be, is pretty damn impressive.

The illusion in this particular situation does not dramatically alter perception of Vanilla’s form. His rough size stays the same, though the fantastical purple trades with a matte black. The limbs grow thicker, the muzzle softer, the antennae,- for lack of better term,- shrink into ears.

To put it simply, in the place of an Unversed is a somewhat spindly cat.

“He looks so…,” Neo admires the result, only figuratively speechless, but nonetheless grasping for words, “normal.”

Despite Vanilla striking a pose that would look amazing if either a sunset or explosion were behind him instead of a brightly colored door, all Neo sees is nonetheless a simple cat. Albeit striking a cool pose. “You mean fearsome, I take it?”

The door latches open with a his and a whirr after Naminé flips the appropiate switch. “He means adorable. Now let’s get going, guys. You can take selfies later.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy new year, everybody!
> 
> Tbh my excuses range from "I got too invested in the genshin impact winter event" to "my sister almost got disowned" so i'm not gonna burden yall with any of that. 
> 
> HOWEVER i haven't been entirely unproductive! I simply felt more like drawing than writing. So i drew a guy as a catboy for his birthday. (He hated it, but it's the best thing i've ever done.)
> 
> [I ALSO DREW THE SQUAD!!!](https://hyper-juice.tumblr.com/post/638341456863657984/could-you-draw-the-gang-from-two-introverts) Look at them. Nam's dress was funnest to do and oh god did that pic make me go insane while drawing. I have hereby also canonized tall Neo by accident.
> 
> So we've got three riku looking dudes, and riku has kh3 looks obvs, i've accidentally gave Neo kh2 height and hair, and Himoyachi is a kh1 looking short king. The sliding scale or riku.
> 
> That is all for this week (with a mid-week update cuz why not) so hasta la byeonara!

**Author's Note:**

> hello!! Voting is officially closed!! Thank you to everyone who participated, because my placeholder definetly wasn't as good as your suggestions! 
> 
> The winner with a landslide majority (majority insofar that there is a grand total of 9 votes excluding the people who suggested the names) is Neo with 6 votes!
> 
> below you can see all suggestions and results! 
> 
> Anton (2 votes), Naoyuki (1 vote) and Neo (6 votes)! I love all three tbh.  
and a new suggestions, Rika, by Belphy and Tomo by Heat Salamance!
> 
> next there's order of events (which will occur in the order listed! Which is actually ideal after i spent a good bit brainstorming)  
Naminé's art contest ft. Terra (2 votes)  
Struggle Tournament ft. Twilight Trio(1 vote)  
and Searching for a birthday gift ft. Sora and Riku!


End file.
